Sorcerers of Kingdoms (draft)
by jackw00pw00p
Summary: This is just a draft version of the story that I'll be uploading, the first of a trilogy. The prologue is brief and only a small insight to the world in which the story is set in, this is strictly for feedback purposes at the moment. I will be uploading a few more chapters in a short while to progress my work so please share any honest criticism you may have to offer and enjoy.
1. Prologue

Sorcerers of Kingdoms

Prologue:   
Gods. They have stood in our skies as figures invisible to the naked eye, Worshiped for their gifts of life, loved for creating the world around us. I am Olraman, one of the first sorcerers to walk this earth and a councilman among the Hall of power; an academy and home for the sorcerers who have long over viewed and guided the leaders of the races. For five thousand years I have walked the earth, watching both the mortals and immortals alike, the lives they've led, the wars they have fought, and they're growth. In the beginning they were lost people, hopeless in their attempts to survive with such little knowledge. This is why we were created, descendants of the gods themselves sworn by oath to guide the races, and bound in oaths of blood to serve the gods. However, we face possible judgement upon ourselves. For we as I have feared, may have outdone our purpose. The eastern lands of the earth have differed much through the eras, but despite our teachings and ancient tradition; man, elf and dwarf have now become far too needless of our advice. Their in-differences have separated them, hate has fueled them and the vision of a united land seems so dim. And now, after a hundred years of troubled peace, they have divided into three kingdoms covering the entire eastern realm. To the north is Grelgo, the kingdom of the mighty dwarves. To the south are the lands of the Kingdom of Zirla, ruled by the elves. And the land that separates these two rival races is the Kingdom of Halrilith: The land of the human race. Fair, brave and respected.

Through many hardships and losses, this realm has kept entirely all to itself, its three countries majorly independent. But, it was not meant to be this way. The gods had forged what they hoped to be something pure, something given freely for the sake of affection. But as the fires of life create warmth, so must it create shadows. My creators were not alone in their craft; they sought the aid of others, gods who could have ceased existence from us all. Our world is not all of good and clarity, it hosts it's demons far in the west, lands we do not dare to venture alone. Some have believed we are a protected by our creators; some have come to defy them. But through time and great patience, the enemies of our realm have devised a challenge: A prophecy. None among the east know yet of this prophecy, but it approaches near. In this time, an era looming in its twilight must welcome a harsh future.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter one  
In the kingdom of Halrilith, on the first day of the Skydawn season, the highly praised King and Queen announced to their people that a child was soon to be born. As it has happened before, the child would be expected as the heir to the kingdom, as chosen by the King himself. It was a day of great hope. Peace of heart and soul seemed infinite for the royal couple, as if the days of gloried ease had come already. They were young and very passionate people, but though this day was meant for celebration and embracing the future, it soon turned into something else. When the sun rested and the moon took watch, a messenger sent from the gods appeared in the council of the castle and urged for the Kings presence. Denfilis and Nitika came to the messenger and awaited the news he brought. The messenger introduced him as a young sorcerer would always: polite and very respectful. But his message however was not the same. He told them of an ancient prophecy which was made as a wager between the gods of light and the gods of darkness. He explained that the king and queen were destined to have three sons, two of which would be true descendants of two gods: Yerlon the mother of the gods, and Strahmin the father of the dark gods.

The descendants were to symbolise the two strengths of good and evil, their purpose was to be fulfilled in combat be it a duel or a battle of armies. He who would be left standing would stride forth the ruling power across the earth, either restoring the earth to its truest form or covering it in tormenting darkness. It was a troubling prophecy to the rulers of Halrilith. Their flesh and blood would bring forth these two symbols. However, they chose to accept their fate and the destiny set for them, and soon they had their first son: Xarphasus. Like many young parents their love had kept all doubt at bay, almost forgetting of the prophecy completely. A resembling caring nature could be discovered in their young boy, a reminder of his father's ways. But as Xarphasus neared the end of his schooling and training it started to become clear he was quite the opposite. Growing aggressive, violent and menacing in his persona as he approached his fifteenth birthday. Heartbroken by their sons' sudden change, he was sent to the prison island of Dimron where he would remain to the end of his days. A few years after Xarphasus' birth, came Prelethas, who would grow up to become a legendary prince of the kingdom, proving more so to his people that their lands had a hero. After him was Alrona the youngest of the three brothers. Nitika possessed an overwhelming love for her son on the day of his birth. A spiritual connection of some kind, a sign of Yerlon's descendant is what she believed from this. Denfilis was not however greatly concerned for him and, uncertain of which of the two were descendants he chose not to waste time. Nitika was fearful for Alrona's fate and rebelled against the idea of casting him out. Refusing to take any chances he plotted to have him sent to the prison island in case of any trickery by the gods. Nitika was too caring of her youngest son to allow such a thing to happen and against her husbands will she took action. Nitika waited until Alrona was three weeks old and sent him down river in a small basket so he could live among the elves.

The king presumed that Alrona was among those in the prison island and did not question his fate after. The king and queen then had a daughter: Hurna. Believed that she was a sign of a false prophecy they raised her alongside prelethas and became the renowned warrior princess. Together they became the people of Halriliths most cherished figures as they defended their land against many threats. However in the island prison Xarphasus was changing. As he blossomed so did the darkness seeded within his soul.

Twenty nine years since the birth of Xarphasus. The three kingdoms remained peaceful, residing in their lands and attending to the issues of their people. On the twelfth morning of the sunlight rise season in the palace gardens in the city of Halrilith, the King and queen were enjoying a calm walk together. Denfilis was now an ageing man, quickly approaching his elder status. Nitika too was turning elderly, but the two of them still retained some of their youthful attributes. The king kept his rich brown hair but it was fading with grey touch, and the queen retaining her silky black hair. They walked on the stone path in a lush and flowery garden with green hedges that stood sixteen feet high. Under a blue and sunny sky the plants looked decorative and soothing to the eye. "Yet another bright morning." Denfillis said as he looked at the sky. "Indeed it is. The gods smile on us with such blessings, so we in return must smile back." Nitika spoke with a happy smile. Denfilis looked at her as she glanced up, it brought a smile to his face but to him the day was envious of Nitika's face. "The gods bless me with a vision far greater than a clear sky. They bless me with seeing you so happy, for so long." Denfilis held Nitika's hand tighter. "Your heart is still beating strong for me, my love? I thought you would have turned away from me now that I have aged." Nitika replied. "It has made my heart beat stronger." Nitika was deeply touched by his loving words. The two kissed affectionately, expressing more of their love for each other. "But still we age. It will not be long before we crown the next ruler." Nitika said.

The thought of it struck Denfilis' mind like a trigger activated image. He held the responsibility to make that difficult choice, for he was king and only he may choose. "You have grown very fond of this garden haven't you?" He asked, "Only because you have my love." She replied. Denfilis knew she was right. "Are you not ready to retire?" she asked concerning for him. "There are still things that I must think of Nitika. I do not believe my part as king is truly over yet. The council have been concerning me of our borders." Nitika was becoming more concerned with the troubles on her husbands mind. "Our borders are well protected Denfilis. Our son and daughter are defending them well. You worry so much for them but the council are men and women of politics, a subject which I know tires you a lot."

"It is not the council that tire me. It is the consistency between those beyond them." Denfilis replied. Nitika spotted a small concrete bench further down the path. "Let's sit shall we?" she recommended. Denfilis then led her a few steps down and sat down with her, still holding her hand. "We have peace yes, but our only allies still hate each other. You know as well as I, for so many we've tried to keep them at bay and despite every gathering I've mustered for them they will not listen to reason. Have I been foolish to realise that only until now?" Nitika understood her husbands discomfort and knew that only her words could reverse it. She thought deeply and carefully of what to say. Then looking the king in the eyes and speaking very softly "Perhaps it is not within our time, a day shall come that they will unite, my love. Do not believe that your efforts have been wasted. Some things have changed under your rule. You helped forged a truce; no bloodshed has been made by either of them. We may stand as just a wall between them, but if we are considered just that then so be it. But with out us, without your actions, things would be far worse." Denfilis remained quiet and rethought the bothers that were in him. A blue and red garden bird flew over them whistling a charming tune; it caught their attention as it landed on the top of a nearby hedge. Together they watched it and listened to it sing, the bird flapped its wings a few times and made sure its presence was notified by the two. In request it wanted only but the hand of queen so it may be fed by whatever food she may have. Nitika of course knew of the bird's desire and raised her arm up at shoulder level with palm open. The bird then flew down and landed in the centre of her hand, still whistling as it remained sat with its head moving side to side.

The queen reached in her dress pocket to find any thing for the bird to eat. It waited patiently and still as it continued to sing. The king then reached into his pocket and then quickly pulled out a small blue grape from the trees of the palace gardens. The bird stopped singing the moment; its eyes lying upon the grape and it stood up with excitement and joy as the king laid it down in Nitika's hand. With much appreciation it sang the song very briefly lasting only a second before placing its small beak around the grape and flying away. The pair watched it flap with joy and speed as it went to return to its nest and family. "Prelethas and Hurna return in two days. Let us enjoy our time together until they come." Nitika spoke gently; Denfilis liked the sound of the idea and held his wife in an intimate hold. She rested her head on his shoulder and shut her eyes.

While the king and queen went ahead with their plans of relaxation and enjoyment the prince and princess were engaged in other activities. Fifty miles northwest of the City, near the great forest of the west; a group of bandits were keeping a watchful eye on the road into the Grelgo kingdom. The bandits were lowlife criminals, dressed in dark leathery shirts and trousers. They were not the most hygienic and had groggy faces and smelt of booze. Under the leadership of Hanjot they have successfully robbed and mugged travellers passing through this road and with no guards in this area their crimes are undisturbed. Hanjot was the criminal type, covered in plenty of scars, leather amour and a bad hair cut. The group spaced themselves into four positions, each one containing twenty or a few more men. The four groups were formatted in a square link, with Hanjot ready at the top right. The road was stone and thick making it easy for nearby criminals to hear horse treads. Two hills stood steeply next to the road creating an elevated position and allowing clear visible overview of the road. Hanjot and his men were camping at the slopes opposite the road to hide away but had one man on lookout at top the hill. Half a mile south of Hanjot and his men was a large cargo carriage covered with a black sheet and two chestnut horses pulling it along. The driver was hooded in a brown jacket that covered the driver's whole body. The carriage moved slowly and steady along the road and it quickly caught the bandit lookout. Upon spotting the carriage the bandit watchman bolted down the hill and into Hanjot's camp. "Cargo carriage boss! It's coming this way!" he yelled, Hanjot who was sitting on a log smoking a pipe looked up onto the hill where the bandit was running at him. "Ha! Get cha pieces together! We got live stock coming!" He shouted as he threw down his pipe and picked up his unsheathed sword. Hanjot ran up the hill with twenty of his men and upon reaching the top he whistled to the men across to signal their ambush positions. "Scope, now." Hanjot barked at a nearby bandit who threw a badly damaged telescope to his boss. Hanjot peered into the scope and observed the driver, seconds later he realised that the driver was trying to hide his or her face. But at that very moment the driver pulled up the hood slightly, and in doing so the driver made it clearly that she was female. Hanjot had a reputation of being very harsh to female victims and had an unhealthy habit of sinful deeds with them. Hanjot smiled with a wicked laugh then threw the telescope back to his fellow bandit. "Don't be too worried about this one lads, it's only a girl." He yelled out, "So ya gonna handle it by ya'self then?" the bandit watchman asked. Hanjot looked at him grin smugly and laid down on top of the hill, his men did the same but in their selected positions overseeing the incoming carriage.

Minutes passed and the carriage continued towards the hills and the bandits ambush position. The carriage driver was calm, clenching the reels of the horse gently and remained seated almost completely stationary. The woman kept her head slightly tilted as she drove on and sang a folk song to herself.  
"Oh pretty blue moon, look how bright you do bloom,  
leaving no room for any man to gloom.  
Share your light; oh share your light  
as you shine as the sun of the night.

Oh pretty blue moon, see how tall you do stand,  
leaving no place for man to run and hide.  
Share your might oh share your might  
as you stand as the sun of the night.

Oh pretty blue moon, watch how far you can see,  
leaving no place covered in blackness.  
Share your sight oh share your sight..."

The woman was interrupted by another singing voice "...as you stand as the sun of the night." The voice was Hanjot's, he sung as he walked down the hill and stood in front of the carriage. The driver stopped the carriage immediately obviously recognising the bandit that stood before her and the danger that he is. "It's been a while since I last sung that. Nice little song isn't it?" Hanjot stood cocky and almost taunting in posture, but the driver knew he wanted more than just the sounds of a forgotten folksong. "Now." Hanjot spoke as he drew out his cutlass sword. "Hand over the merchandise." The woman then slowly raised herself up from the seat and slowly revealed her face by pulling down the hood until it sat on her shoulders. She was beautiful, had ocean blue eyes and rich milky skin with golden brown hair that was short and curly "Listen to me criminal. You're about to make a very...very regretful decision." She spoke in a soft voice but with warning intent. Hanjot laughed loudly, amused by her warning. "Oi lads, we got ourselves a feisty gal down ere!" he yelled loudly. Eighty three bandits then appeared from the hills. Three of them joined Hanjot, one group covered the road from behind the carriage as the rest stood atop of both hills. They all smiled and laughed with confidence, some given out rude gestures towards the woman. "There are only two methods of payment now beautiful: with ya cargo and ya pretty lil face, or ya cargo and ya pretty lil corpse." The woman then looked around her, looking at all the bandits surrounding her observing there weapons and there stances. She looked around for only a few seconds, "Well which is gonna be then?" Hanjot yelled. The woman then looked at him with a seriously concerned face. She let out a small and short sigh before tapping her boot against the wood of the carriage. But there was no response to it. Hanjot was confused by her action. The woman then rolled her eyes and tapped again this time harder against the wood beneath her. Hanjot 's face started a grow a big smile, the woman then banged the floor repeatedly and with much force resulting in a loud banging noise's. Hanjot and his men burst in loud and outrageous laughter. The woman let out a bigger sigh and this time because of frustration and not pity. But only moments later she too laughed along with the men, which made them laugh more and more. "Brother, you really should see how happy they are." She then looked at Hanjot still laughing and instantly afterwards she threw off her brown robe at him. The laughter stopped and the sounds of a sword unsheathing replaced it. Once Hanjot recovered his vision and removed the robe from his sight, the woman now stood with a two handed white steel sword in her hands and her body covered in light blue steel armour.

Behind the woman the black sheet started to be shredded apart from a sword and only moments later a man rose up from it. The man was Prince Halrilith, gazing into light blue eyes and as the wind stroked his light brown short dashing hair. He was dressed in a Halrilith officer's amour made of steel and plated slates; yielding a short sword with a metal and wood spear. Hanjot suddenly realised that he had indeed made a mistake but not one that he was regretting quite yet. In fact he was rather thrilled to see the prince and princess of Halrilith before him, for it was a chance to slay them. Hanjot's men however were quite weary of the prince and his sister; they all knew of their mission to rid those of injustice and crime. "LET'S HAVE EM!" Hanjot shouted on top of his voice as he rose up his sword to signal the attack. His men let out roars of war cry and charged down towards them, but the signal did not only initiate their attack. Ten more swords cut their way out of the black covers and from within the slashed cover raised twenty Halirlith warriors, fully armoured and armed. Ten spearmen grasping heavy Halrilith spears made of steel and wood with heavy armoured outfits and shields. The rest were standard swordsman with light armour and steel swords and shields. Together they were led by captain Blarin, their fiercest warrior. He was in his officer's armour, decorated with battle scratches and his blue steel helmet covering his whole face. He yielded a mighty long sword of steel and a heavy and thick shield; he stood out as a menacing soldier. "Engage!" The captain yelled.

Prince Prelethas joined his sister and the captain as his men jumped down and surrounded the carriage. The formation of the soldiers had swordsman and spearman next to each other, to keep enemies at bay and the swordsman in safe striking distance. Hurna cut the ropes that bound the horses to the carriage and set them running at the north flank. It knocked Hanjot and his men down slowing their approach. The bandits that surrounded them clashed with the Halrilith soldiers. Most of them dying upon impact; blood jetted from their wounds and decorated the soldiers armour. The prince and princess remained ahead of the soldiers, fighting by each others side. Hurna was engaging bandit one by one usually only using one or two moves, counter attacking with agility and speed. She would simply deflect the enemy sword and then thrust her blade to the stomach or throat resulting in a quick kill. Prelethas however used his strength and combos to attack. He would engage mainly one on one but sometimes two on one, and strike first by quickly watching the attack move of his opponent. The bandits would usually swing their swords to the head and stab towards the stomach with simple thrust attacks. Prelethas would disarm enemies with blows to the hand or legs and then finish them off with decapitation or chest slashes. The battle was obviously winning in the Halrilith's favour, and with thirty of the bandits dead and the rest fighting with little skill it was becoming clear who would win. Hanjot was fighting against a spearman soldier trying to break through the formation. One of his comrades grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him out, "Come on boss we can't win let's run away!" he begged Hanjot. Hanjot hated to agree but he knew there could be no victory, "SPLIT LADS!" he shouted as he turned around and sprinted over the hill from where he came from. The Captain spotted him trying to escape and broke away from the formation from the south. "Sir, Hanjot is trying to escape!" as he pointed with his blood soaked sword in the fleeing direction. Prelethas spotted him making his get away and vanished over the hill, "Sister, follow my lead." He commanded to Hurna. The two of them then preceded the pursuit, the rest of the bandits scattered away in panic. The morale of the bandits was shattered and the soldiers of Halrilith were more than confident in their skills. "Bring up the Calvary!" Captain Blarin ordered, a nearby Halrilith soldier who then sounded his horn signalling very loudly to a cavalry division half a mile away.

Prelethas and Hurna had now passed over the hill and had a clear sight on Hanjot who was only a hundred yards away now. A few of his men were following him but they were already exhausted from their unhealthy habits. The prince and Princess were running with great speed even in their armour; their athletic abilities made them quick runners. A thundering sound of horses charged from beyond the plains grew louder. The armoured Halrilith horsemen were moving in to attack, quickly gaining on Hanjot and his men. Prelethas and Hurna were only thirty yards away now, getting closer and closer. Hanjot knew he could not out run the horsemen or the prince and princess so he stopped as the rest of his men fled. Hanjot, now panicking and out of breathe did indeed regret the mistake he just made, but he would yearn to die instead of living with defeat. Prelethas and Hurna slowed down as the horsemen galloped around Hanjot, cutting off any escape. Prelethas and Hurna approached Hanjot who was still in a fighting stance. It was clear to all of them that the man was afraid and knew he would not stand a chance of surviving. "Throw down your sword Hanjot." Prelethas said, Hanjot shook his head. "Throw it down and you have my word as prince of these lands that you won't be harmed."

"You will kill me either way Prelethas! I'd rather die fighting." Hanjot replied, "Do not be a fool, Hanjot. Your crimes against the two kingdoms will not go unpunished, but you will live." Hurna spoke as she stepped forward. "NO! I will not live as a prisoner in that tormented place!" Hanjot was close to tears, fearful for his life. The prince had a thought; a deal that could be possible for securing peace in these parts. "Tell us where the bandit hideout is Hanjot and I will let you leave." Hanjot felt a comfort in the offer and his fear began to leave him. "You give me your word I will live?" he asked terrified. "In the name of my king...you will live." The captain had finally caught up with the rest of the soldiers, they were smeared in blood but none was theirs. "I can't tell you where the hideout is. But I can tell you who knows." Hanjot was still on his guard even without a weapon in his hands, he didn't trust being at ease with them. Before another word could be said an ear filling horn erupted almost out of the very ground beneath the horses. Just a few hundred yards north of the Prince and Princess' position was a battalion of Dwarven soldiers. They numbered fifty, fitted in a heavy elite unit being led by an officer.

"Hostile?" Captain Blarin asked, "I don't think so, Hurna you and me will do the talking." Prelethas replied. The dwarf officer removed his helmet and revealed his face. He was a middle aged man with long and dread brown hair and a long brown beard that hung down to his chest. "We saw the battle from just up those hills. Are there any casualties?" he asked in his thick Scottish accent. "We have suffered no losses, just a skirmish with a group of bandits." Hurna said. "Bandits you say? So this is where they've been coming from." The officer said very seriously, his face matched his tone of voice. "What?" Prelethas asked, "Over the last few weeks the villagers just north of your border have been under constant attack from bandits. If there fleeing from your lands and into ours then you're endangering our people." "Wait just one moment there dwarf." Captain Blarin spoke forward showing that he was offending the officer's accusation. "Captain!" Prelethas barked at him, backing him down.  
"I apologize if you were not informed of our campaign, and the casualties your people have suffered. But I can assure you that we did not wish this to happen upon your country. And to extend my apology, I believe our captive may prove useful to you." Prelethas brought up his right arm and the soldiers under his command pulled Hanjot forward. The dwarf officer sighed before giving Prelethas a respectable nod. Hanjot was now even more frightened for his life then was before; he knew that dwarves punish criminals far harsher than anyone. "My prince please, I made a deal with you." "It is not in my hands anymore." He replied Hanjot was then given to the dwarf soldiers who dragged him to the north as he screamed and begged for his life. "You should not have done that my lord. It would have been useful to know where his men dwell." Captain Blarin said. Prelethas turned around and faced him. "You should not have spoken Blarin. Must I repeat it several times to confirm that you understand?" The sun was beating down all of them with rays of immense heat, the princess smiled with the notion that her country was safer. "Well, we going back home?" she asked happily and wide. The soldiers then thought of what home was to them, it reminded them of their families and house's. All greatly missed and cherished. "I don't remember us having business else where, I suppose a summer's break would be a rather pleasant idea, to home." "To Home!" the soldiers yell with joy. "You fought well today, all of you. Let's treat this season as if it were the last." The prince spoke boldly to his men and saluted them in respect and admiration.

Miles away to the west, in the deep and lush filled lands was the great forest of Halrilith. The land was that of a beautiful wildlife, protected by proud trees and blossoming plants; covering only a fraction of the west. This mystical place has been the home to nearly every form of animal, insect and beast. But now it remains the home and hunting grounds of the renowned forest Wolf clan. Somewhere east of the central river the clans second in command and son of the leader: Theilion was lurking. He was hiding in a heavily enshrouded area, rich with tall grass, strong trees that stood fifty feet high and populated with many birds in the branches. Theilion was hidden well in the tree, his dark brown hair nearly matching with the branches. The hunter was dwelling within an old footpath used by deer's and panthers. With him were a group of four apprentice hunters, to his clan they were un-blooded hunters who were dressed in tribal trousers and shirts made of jaguar and lion skin. They had small decorative accessories gifted to them by relatives for luck and respect. They did not bear any forms of trophies or marking to show kills but Theilion on the other hand was highly decorated with them. His skin was decorated light with different blood markings on various parts of him, each one different in colour and life form. It show it range of kills, and with that his range of skill. But the clearest of his marks was a tattoo on his left shoulder; a black tribal symbolic mark representing his place amongst the clan as an elite hunter. Just this tattoo alone brought him great honour, a symbol of respect and pride. Many young hunters dream of achieving the rank but many die in their early attempts.

Theilions' task in this forest was not to obtain more honour for himself but merely an initiation of his fellow hunters. Theilion and his followers had been tracking the steps of prey in this area, uncertain of what animal or beast will stumble upon them. For two hours the hunters have moved throughout the forest, trying to find worthy prey. But Theilion as taught by his father knew that if one should become uncertain of his preys movements then it can sometimes be fixed by waiting. Theilion and his hunters had been blended within the environment, by himself in the tree and his men holding steady in prone behind thick bushes. Theilion remained patient and cautious; his mind not becoming lost in wonder or dream, it was fixed completely on the hunt. Disciplined, alert and prepared. The men under his wing however could not follow in his example, growing uncertain, inpatient and bored. The un-blooded knew better, regardless of that they tried to communicate with each other in any way possible. Minutes passed and still nothing. The hunters were even more desperate to get their trial over and done with, but it was not until a short time later that they would become compelled to do otherwise. The grass and bushes in a tree line at least one hundred yards away from the ambush position were moving swiftly. The group became alert. Peering into the tree line only to see nothing, but there was something moving toward them ever so slowly. Theilion pressed himself against the tree and nodded to his followers to prepare to strike. The apprentice hunters wielded basic weapons; such as a simple wooden bow and one small iron short sword. Not the strongest of weapons but capable of killing most that the forest had to offer. Theilion however was elite, so as opposed to the basics he wielded the most deadly. Taking aim with unique weapon: The Black Oak wood bow. It was a powerful and deadly weapon matched with Theilion's skill, another example of his efficient abilities as an archer among his people. Many beasts had fallen to the killing power of this weapon and one of Theilion's most prized possessions. The rustling of the grass was now twenty yards away from them and still no clear vision of the thing ahead of them. The hunters were not taking too well to what was going on, they were growing nervous, and the bows in their hands were becoming heavier. Sweat itched at the skin on their foreheads; Theilion spotting the fear possessing them so quickly. Then suddenly the rustling stopped, and the hunters froze in an instant. The tension was there for a moment and an eternity, gripping all with body covered hands of nerves. Seconds passed ever so quietly and steady.

Then with a roar and burst of energy, a fully grown forest lion sprung from the grass and leaped into a killing frenzy. A glimmer of brown fur and stone claws flashed in the eyes of the hunters. They screamed and fell back, firing their arrows up into the overhead trees. The lion's leap was an overshot, missing them all and landing from the rear cutting off any forms of retreat. Its mighty roar postured with the scars of its coated body, inspiring a maddening scare into the un-blooded who screamed and broke away to retreat. Theilion had lost track of the Lion after it had leapt, once he spotted it again he knew he would not have enough time to reset his aim. Instead of attempting to fire he looked up, jumped towards the sky and pulled himself further up into the tree. The lion had not noticed him as its attention was focused on the younger hunters. Running as a group and as fast as they could, terrified as they abandoned their bows, now becoming the fresh game for the forest lion as raced after them, moving at far more superior speed. Theilion who had now taken a bigger height had to quickly track and take down the lion before it could do any damage. The hunters continued their frightful fleeing, but one of them had tripped over a broken log and took another hunter down to the ground. The two hunters were now in killing range of the Forest Lion, which now targeted the fallen men. It leapt up as it did before ten feet in the air to pounce its prey to death. The men screamed for help with all the air in their lungs.

But to their luck something then suddenly shot through the lion's neck in midair, shooting blood over the men's faces and onto the soil around them. The forest lion landed dead before it even touched them. The two hunters exhaled from the rushing blood in their veins which soon settled instead with an enormous sense of relief. Moments passed and Theilion approached them, as they continued lay still with the dead forest lion shaking atop of them. The other two hunters returned only a short time after Theilion, relieved but there was not a single one of them whom feel ashamed after. Theilion knew that they had failed as hunters but this was a trial, only a test.

Theilion pushed off the Forest lion from the two hunters and helped them stand on their feet. It was clear by the look in his face that he was not impressed by any of them, but he had seen worse responses and outcomes. "Have my lessons gone unlearnt?" Theilion spoke with a rightful master's attitude. "No master." They all said as they lowered their heads in shame. "It's your third trial. Three times failed and three times shamed. I had hoped for at least one to succeed, you have dishonoured your families this day. But do not forget what it means to fail, for sometimes we have to fall in order to rise." Theilion preached to the un-blooded hunters like a teacher would to his students. He may have cared for them but it was not enough to keep making mistakes. None of them wished to express any thoughts or questions. It was clear that each of them knew what they had to be improved, or whether or not the path of the hunter was for them. Theilion looked down upon the fallen Lion and sympathised for its death. "This would have been more than enough to allow initiation. It is a great shame." Theilion spoke formal but with slight sadness. "Master, you killed it to save our lives? What waste is that?" said one of the young hunters. "I killed this Forest lion barely within the boundaries of our code. Remember: you kill only a worthy foe, or be killed by it. To fall to a strong warrior is acceptable but surrendering to it is not the way of honour. And dishonour, my young friend is a fate far worse than death. All who have abandoned this have fallen, to me, to the other elites, and even to their own blades."

The apprentice hunters understood now as they did when they were first taught the code of hunters. The un-blooded hunters were greatly shamed but their honour was not entirely taken from them. "Come. We should return home." Theilion ordered as he took point of the group and walked to the west. His fellow hunters followed, rethinking of their clumsiness and the price of their actions. Following an ageless deer path into the west, Theilion and the younger hunters walked casually through it deeper. Despite the number of the times he had passed this way, Theilion could not help himself to the beauty of the forest. Everywhere he looked, he admired what he saw, a remerging occurrence of that one thing that any lucky soul would have: knowing where home was. But as the hunter travelled onward with his men, the forest held another challenge for him.

Theilion suddenly stopped in his tracks, his men becoming startled by his sudden halt, and in response questioned his stillness. "Theilion was is it?" the young hunter asked. He did not respond to him, he listened deeply at what was rumbling in the wind. Theilion's ear far outmatched those of his followers, an advantage over most.

"The hunt is not over." His words sent chills. "Follow me!" he yelled as he suddenly sprinted forward. The un-blooded did as he commanded and they too sprinted to keep up with him. Theilion was treading lightly and incredibly quickly, inhaling and exhaling fast as his heart raced like a raging bull. Sounds of trees collapsing rumbled from ahead, something was running strongly ahead. "Ready your arrows!" Theilion yelled as he drew his bow ready. Birds flew overhead in uncontrollable panic, fleeing from what monstrosity was beneath them. A large beast figure was faintly hidden by the environment, the young hunters did not what it was but Theilion seemed to. He and his hunters then reached into the fields of the river. As they emerged, there stood their prey or so they thought. A large blood eyed feral bear turned itself to face them, snarling as it stood on its back paws. The blackness of the beasts' coat reflected its own rabid nature,

Theilion stepped forward and raised his bow up, the Bad-blood bear switched to a four paw stance. Theilion stared intensely at it, challenging him. The bad blood bear stood back up and let out a fearsome roar of thunder. The un-blood hunters covered their ears from the sheer sound of it. Theilion then realised that they were closer to being prey than the bear, for it had now called to others. Only moments passed and another bear leapt out of the forest behind them. Then another appeared behind the first bear from down the hill. "Stay close to me." Theilion stepped towards the first feral bear and allowed the other three to circle them. They all appeared just as menacing and horrifically scarred as the first. Some were growling deep with aggression as where others licked their lips with hunger. Then suddenly, a fourth one appeared smashing down the trees from the forest.

Theilion's hunters were completely drowned in terror, breathing quick and whimpering. "Stand bold hunters! You are not the prey!" Theilion yelled. "Stay close to me!" the bears began to circle them. Sniffing, licking and eyeing their meal, indulged with the fresh elegant meat before them, savouring a taste for the feast yet to come. "Aim for the eyes or the neck, your arrows should bring them down." Theilion remained as focus as possible, his hunters were still deep within the pool of scare but they kept there weapons drawn and highlighted the bears target points. The fourth Bad blood bear then stopped. It was obvious this was the pack leader, and without a doubt the strongest. Theilion stepped forward, standing a mere ten feet away from its face. He was not afraid. He was not off balance. His fingers began to twitch on the feather of his arrow. The air in his lungs grew thicker. He stared into the eyes of the Bear as it stared back. It snarled at him, trying to break him and submit to fear. Theilion would not back down and so it gave the bear a sense of challenge but not a sense of worry. Theilion then bent his knees slowly and clinched hard on his bow handle. A rising growl grew within the leader Bad blood. It let out an earth shacking roar as it lunged up in the air elevating to eighteen feet off the ground. And in a split second of time and a moment of instinct Theilion lifted his Black oak wood bow up and fired one stunning shot of his arrow. Time seemed to stand still for this moment and Theilion could see the flight of the arrow as it moved. Hearts pounding and Bears roaring filled up the heads of all the hunters.

Once time let go of them, the bear fell from above Theilion who responded with a quick evasive roll to the ground on his left. The ground thundered from the Bad blood bears landing. As he regained his senses he saw that the other Bears had too fallen in death. They were in complete shock. All of them shaking and breathing heavy. Theilion breathed a quick exhaled of relief which then lead to an excitement laugh. The hunters were calming down once hearing him, lowering their bows and sitting down to ease their nerves. Theilion walked up to them still laughing. They too then joined in with him. Theilion smiled as he looked at the dead bears, he felt a sense of pride build within him for he had an honourable kill. "I have to say. Not bad, not bloody bad at all." He gave his right arm to help up his followers. "Collect your trophies and take some of their blood. You'll need it for tonight." The hunters were overjoyed. Cheering and hugging one another. "Thank you, master." The words touched Theilion's spirit, filling him with a blessing of righteousness like he had been kissed by a spirit. Theilion gave the men a minute to rejoice their success and gather their things; then kneeling down to place his hand onto the pack leader. Closing his eyes he quietly whispered his farewell to the fallen bears. "Spirit father; Guide them to their resting places. Spirit mother; Show them their paradise. May their spirits remain alongside yours, and may there bodies return to the earth within. From whence they came, blooded in honour." As a hunter rightfully would do for his fallen prey, whether it is out of hate or despair that their rivalry is caused the hunter must always wish his prey goodbye into the spirit world where they will soon join them.

After his sympathetic words Theilion lifted his head up and with great excitement the hunters hurried down the hill and into the fields of the river; rushing eagerly to get home. The un-blooded hunters laughed and marched in jolly pace, heading home in eager steps. A bright atmosphere could be seen with them. Through honour they found there paradise, nothing else felt truer and more reviving that the journey home after a first honourable kill. It sparked a flame which burned life within them, making them feel like they could fly alongside the birds above them.

What had seemed to be mere minutes of walking through the forest ended with true in only an hour's passing in time; Theilion and his men had arrived at their clan's camp. The first recognisable feature was the wooden gate, sided by twenty five foot wood walls. Upon his command, the gate opened gradually, an aroma of mud and food struck them upon a breeze. Muddy was the soil as they marched inside, the road breaking apart from the harshness of the rain. Their presence had been barely noticed except by the gatekeeper, the village already active even with such a small population. Theilion made it was onward, hearing the greetings from the vendors nearby as he walked, heading down into the southern parts of the village.

The southern section of the village was quite active during this time, the young children undergoing schooling. But it was not the reason for him to come here first. Theilion approached the hunter's academy hut and stood outside to peer in. Inside he saw the new hunters preparing to sit down and wait for the elites to start their lesson. Theilion wouldn't barge in with his men behind him, so he decided to quietly enter as his men remained outside. Theilion took a moment to see what was going on, looking across the hut walls as they were covered in drawings of predators in the forest, and many more from the regions of the world. It was here the hunters were shown what they would face in the hunting grounds. It was here that the path of the hunter would begin. The teenagers were sitting in their desks all talking and waiting excitedly for the teacher to arrive. Then from the door where Theilion entered from was a man looking that of at least fifty years in age, his students ceased their talk upon hearing his heavy footsteps, nervous at the size of him.

They stared in awe at the blood markings of red and black on his arms and chest, and the deep scar across his nose and cheeks. Theilion snickered secretly, cheekily amused at how intimidated they were by their new teacher. The man turned around and faced his class, a stern strict gaze brushed across the room before he spoke.

"Students, you all know me as Kovalti. One of the elite hunters among this clan, but before any of you can begin you must first bid farewell to whatever is left of your life as child..." Theilion listened to him, resurfacing a nostalgic feel he once endured before. "...and welcome the future as a hunter. I look at you now and I see you as prey waiting to meet your end, at the fangs of the beasts that lurk beyond these walls. From birth all things are but mere prey and you still are even to this day. Each and every one of us is a safe as a stone in this place, but out there in that forest there is no refuge for any of you. As your teacher, it is my task to show you the ways of the hunter. I will succeed with a few of you, as where the rest may redraw from my lessons or die in the process of their learning. In order for any of you to survive; you must trust in your abilities, to a constantly focused state of mind. However if you wish to become an elite such as myself, you have to know this like as if you were born with it. You must able, quick, strong and able to cope with any terrain that you encounter. I will not lie to any of you. It will be very difficult to soak up what I have to teach, and it will be dangerous. If you don't think you have the heart or will for such a burden, then please leave this room."

The room plunged completely into silence. Not so much as a whisper slithered in the atmosphere. But Theilion was not surprised to see no one back out. From his time in the clan he knew what everyone thought about volunteering: once you decide to join the hunters there is no backing out, because to do so would have you looked upon as a coward. It would be shameful but understandable. Theilion realised that this lesson could take quiet some time so he decided to not let the un-blood hunters wait on him, so he left the hut the same way he entered. As he walked down the steps outside the hut the hunters stood at attention to listen for his instruction. "Go back to your families. The elites are busy right now." Theilion said, "But...Theilion. What about our..." one of the hunters wondered. "It will be arranged later young one, get some rest. The elites have their hands full but we'll have time to prepare for the ceremony." Theilion put them at ease with his words and himself too. The un-bloods did as Theilion asked, and parted ways with each other to visit their families. The hunter also felt the need to part way to his family, heading back to the north towards the gate he entered from, approaching the one place he knew his father would be in this time of day.

The inn had developed a special history all of its own, being one of the last structures ever built on this ground. Theilion arrived shortly after sending the young men off. Inside was an unattended bar and sat on his lonesome at a small table was his father. Vundi differed in appearance to all in the village; his traditional take on apparel had its own elegant impression to all who saw him. A somewhat clear sign of who he was, but not so his place of origin. Vundi gloomed in shading from the curtain, his heavy tattoos making him appear more of a textured figure than a person to the hunter. Theilion swaggered inward toward him, his steps upon the wooden floor catching his father's attention. Vundi stood up out of his chair and walked around the table, opening his arms out to hug him closely. "Good day today?" Vundi took back his place in the chair and Theilion across from him. "Yes." He replied. "They finally succeeded?" Vundi opened astounded, "Bad blood bears, a pack of them." Theilion replied. Vundi was utterly surprised with such sayings. "By the spirits, No?" Vundi asked with shock, "Its true father. Thought at first it would just be one, instead it led us out onto the fields to into a trap." Theilion explained, smiling at the boyish look on his fathers face.

"I must say, our hunters are getting more daring under your control. Remember son, a packs' strength rests wholly on its smallest warrior. " Vundi said wisely. "I know father, you taught me that" Theilion nodded respectfully. "Have you decided to initiate our un-bloods tonight?" Vundi asked before yawning. "I have, but I think they would want their grandmaster to take part. It would be an honour for their families to see." Theilion humbled, "It's been a while since the last, and I'd most likely make a mess of it." "Oh come on father, you know the native language better than anyone here. Please, I'll buy you a pint once it's over." Theilion replied. "Two and maybe we'll an accord." Vundi snickered like a confident gambler, "What's the matter father, you're starting to drink as much the Dwarves." Theilion uttered. "Ah it is nothing son, just age gaining on me is all." Vundi elaborated, "Is it on all of us father, nothing to be upset about." Theilion eased him. "I'm not upset about it Theilion, I feel more flabbergasted than anything else. Time has gone by me so swiftly, it's like yesterday was the day you were born." Theilion smiled gently to his father, "You've been thinking too much father, and too many late nights in here isn't helping either. Why don't you see about heading out tomorrow, we can go horse riding like we did when I was boy." Vundi felt himself lighten in mood, "Ah no I couldn't ride again, not like how we use to."

"I don't EXACTLY how we use to ride, but just a steady one. We'll be gone for only a few hours, besides you need to get out a bit more nowadays." Theilion explained as he stood himself up from the table, "Hey now, I might be a little old but I'm not quite that old yet. I'll have to beat some sense into you boy." Vundi joked, "Careful old man, don't want to stand up and let your back give out. Wait there I'll get you a stick to walk on." Theilion rudely toyed at him as he walked away. "Wait, where are off to?" Vundi asked, "I'll have to let everyone else know about tonight, we only have a few hours left before nightfall." Theilion replied, "Well, I'll come find you in a little while. I've missed having you around." Vundi stated warmly, "Okay, don't go getting mushy on me yet father; I'll talk to you shortly."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
A large silver moon replaced the sun's throne, shining a dim but colourful reign of light upon the land. The air was cool and breezy, gently whooshing along the surface of the earth and scooping up dry leaves. In the north of the village at the gathering theatre; all of the village's population sat in circular arena grounds, built mainly of stone with wood framing, the white painting of wolves glowed at the light of the moon. Theilion and three elite hunters dwelled on four points on the stage, the un-bloods kneeling in the far end. Vundi stood at the top of the theatre stone steps holding a small lit torch, and the trophies of the un-bloods.

The audience generated quite talk, murmurs of indistinct chatter swimming around the grounds, only to be ceased by a small band of drum players, playing out deep and calm drumming beats in a slow rhyme pattern. The villagers had become a sea of eyes and shadows fixing upon the stage, awaiting the ceremony to begin. Vundi made his way down the steps slowly, Theilion and three elites began to hum in synchronised perfection, conjuring forth the grandmaster's steps. It was deep and extremely precise, creating a haunting but yet mystical feel upon the villagers. Vundi then neared the steps and slowly walked up, everyone holding their breath with excitement, the more experienced of the villagers smiling with anticipation. Vundi glanced across his son and elite hunters, making certain they were correctly positioned before he himself took up his place in centre of the stage.

The grandmaster as he had done many times before, took in a large gulp of the night air, freshening his lungs and mouth with an aroma of oily leaves and wet bark. His eyes closed along as he kept his body as still and neutral as it could be, licking and letting his lips part way only so little. From his ancestral form of origin Vundi's tongue delivered fourth a strange chant, his fluent mastery of the language making it no more intriguing to the villagers than it did the first time they heard it. All who were witnessing the course of the ceremony had no other sense to spare, nor any focus on anything but the sounds growing from within the arena. Moments of the initiation passed, clickers and snapping of fire on wood soon came into earshot as Vundi and his hunters slowly dimmed down in noise. "Welcome my friends. Upon this night we wish to bring fourth the spirits of our ancestors, and watch the rebirth of our un-bloods. Let us together prey, and in our bonds we shall call them to us." The villagers then held onto each other's hands, and following the elites example they too hummed in prey, accelerating the chant to an even more haunting level. The Un-bloods remained motionless, a ticker of nerves flickering in their hands and feet, the drums tuning along with the beats of their own hearts. Theilion could see the fear on their skin, no shade or darkness strong enough to hide it.

Stepping out from the line of the elites, Theilion stepped calmly toward the un-bloods, their cub like eyes bloomed at him like children to a guardian. A prideful smile grew on his face, giving them a secret nod of approval before turning forward to face the audience. The spiritual chanting went on, growing slightly in tone and pace, circulating the walls of the village with its enrapturing sound as a song enjoyed by the inhabitants of the great forest. As curiosity grew among the un-bloods, the nearest whispered for Theilion, "Master, what is he doing?" Theilion grinned with delight, "He's calling out to your forefathers, he's asking for them to be present for your blooding." The flame upon Vundi's torch scorched out swiftly, glowing violet and purple in its colouring light. The young hunter became startled by it, "Don't be scared, it just means they've answered the calling." Theilion whispered, comforting him as he continued to watch. Giving him a gentle pat, Theilion preceded forward to his father, a cue for him to carry out the next stage. At his feet, Theilion took up a small bowl of ash, filtering through it briefly with his fingers before smearing it onto two fingers. An abnormal silence settled in as the chanting died, all eyes opening to watch yet again. Theilion decorated across the young faces on the stage, drawing quickly upon their cheeks with black lining patterns.

From above, the moonlight was aided by an unknown source of light, the un-bloods gazing up at the polar lights in the night sky. "What is that Master, I've never seen it before?" The hunter subtly gasped, "It's the gate of the spirit world. Your ancestors have come." Theilion's words inspired a mass fascination upon the un-bloods, the three of them staring up at the sheer magnitude of the sky's beauty. Turning to look upon the young men, "Un-bloods come." Vundi commanded, standing up calmly and walking together in well timed steps, stopping to stand before the grandmaster. Theilion followed with the other three elite hunters, standing to the side as Vundi handed the torch to his son. The elites held brown bowls in their hands, reaching out for Vundi to fulfil the requirements of the ceremony. The grandmaster gave each the hunter's back the trophies they had claimed from their kill, stepping away from them to take up the first bowl. Returning back to the first un-blood, Vundi pressed his index finger inside to retrieve only a small worth of blood. The villagers observed still, as their leader drew a single red symbol upon the un-bloods foreheads, recognition of their newly given rank but only one small bowl per hunter, as the ceremony had always done before.

All who stood into the mainline of focus all gazed upward to the polar lights, the spirit world seeming to gaze back upon them. "Resting fathers, fly fourth your strength and wisdom, bless the road your descendants so they may do as they must as in your favour. Let them walk among us blooded with their fallen prey, so in return they shall honour your presence and memory with the honour of their skill. Let them walk among this ground and every other, worthy of the life you have bestowed upon us."

The elite hunters as well as Theilion and his father, knelt down to show fourth the newly blooded hunters, the sea of eyes and shadows fixed on them. Together, and by their voices alone the grandmaster and his elites preyed one final time. "Blessed are our lands. For they hone and bring us the fruit of life. Of flowers and thistles, we are grown as one of the earth. To the sun we are taken as insects. To the sea we are but deer's. To the spirits of our fathers, our mothers, we are embraced as the men and women we are. From the earth we shall grow, but to the heavens we shall fly."

The polar lights began to glow brighter and brighter, it's might extending across the sky every lightly. The display of the spirit world came to a sudden end, as the lights converted, showing only the stars upon a night sky. The blooded hunters looked uncertain, turning to each other and the audience for any clue as to what had happened. Vundi extended his hand to grasp with the first of them, embracing them into his clan as a greater member. An uprising of cheering and clapping roared from the villagers, the elites welcoming the younger men into their ranks, comradely and brotherly. Relatives of the hunters quickly came running down the steps to greet and congratulate them, bursting with pride for them and their names. "And to think one day it's going to be me doing this." Theilion spoke loudly under the racket of the arena, "Better make sure you don't forget about it son." Vundi replied still clapping, "Well don't you forget to show up, spirit or not I'd want you here." Theilion uttered as I looked his father in the eye, he in turn doing the same. "Buy me three pints, and you have a deal." Theilion laughed, "Your a right cheeky old man, you know that?" Vundi took his son into arms hugging him strongly, as a reflection to his proud form of mind.

From the perspective of the sky, the eastern lands appeared dreamy, at rest from all current torment, whether temporary or eternal. But as a coin of two sides, this seemed only to last on side. On the other however, torment was but a factor of it influents. Far in southern oceans, a place of great suffering remained undisturbed. An island prison in the middle of a horrendous ocean, the walls buried with a disturbing history of the guilty and the weak.

The roaring storms of the ocean around spoke of the nature of those who ruled over this prison, and all those who were caged within it. A castle fortress could often be the mistaken impression of this at the eyes of the innocent, but all that one would need to do to know the truth would be to look upon its tallest tower. Within this tower was but a spiral stone stair case, and a single cell embedded at the top. The rusty bars and decaying structure of the building was a fitting description of the inmate inside it, looking Lone, quiet and almost dead in his stillness, rubbing his thumb across a rat that he held between the warmth of his hands.

A crescendo of boots upon stone stepped up from the staircase, the only sound of life to be heard in the decrepit tower. A darkly armoured Elf guard climbed up to the inmate's cell, carrying a small tray of poorly made food. The guard paused as he stared into the cell, not taking the filthy condition it was in but whether of the life left in the inmate sat inside it. The guard pondered in confusion for a short moment, before an eruption of lightning shook him out of it. The prisoner chuckled evilly, a wicked grin growing on his face. "Eat up." The guard spat as he shoved the tray through a small hatch with much force, spilling the contents across the floor. The rat was quickly released from the prisoner's hands as it jumped down to feast upon the food. The guard watched as it nibbled happily, turning away with disgust before walking back down the stair case. The inmate had not a care of his meal, watching as his pet ate it for him. Instead, he stood up from his chair to turn toward the barred window of his cell, feeling the little that the moonlight could reach him with. Violent thunder clouds kept the moon out of sight, vaguely making its impact on the earth as it has done since the first day of its creation. But behind the clashing of wind and water, a voice faintly grew. The prisoner peered out, turning his head to face the outside with his ear, eager to hear the voice speak once more. Like an echo shot through vicious winds the only two words that registered in the prisoner's head set him immediate action. "Get back."

The inmate stepped quickly away from the window, bracing himself against the bars for whatever it was that lingered out there. The lack of knowing kindled a new feeling that the prisoner had not felt for a long time, fear. The wall suddenly smashed apart behind a fiery blast, small broken bricks of debris striking against his body, knocking the air from his lungs and bringing him down to his knees and hands. A pitching ring aggravated his ears, turning to broken wall to see what was there except for a cloud of dust. The voice whispered once more, this time was much clearer in audio and clarity. "Xarphasus..." the rich voice spoke, yelling from the guards below rumbled its way upward, an alerting of a break out. Xarphasus was not familiar of the voice he heard, but upon seeing a clean hand reach through the dust he was compelled to take it. Freezing winds shoot into his ears and body as he was pulled through the dust, a warm cloak ensnared him completely keeping him protected from the storm. A gushing uplifting of noise and wind took him away from the feel of the cell, as his feet felt heat from the ground beneath. The stranger pulled his cloak carefully from the prisoner, letting the hot air attach itself onto him. Xarphasus looked upon the black soil of stone and mud, smelling the thick aroma it created. "My lord, welcome." The stranger greeted, bowing his head before him as a servant. Xarphasus glanced upon the stranger warily, recognising the dark attire of his body and the long grey and black hair of his head. "Who are you sorcerer?" he asked cautiously of the stranger. Straightening up his posture, the old man gazed at him with a greeting smile. "Fear not my lord; I am your loyal servant."

Xarphasus looked and studied the land around him; it was a mass graveyard of some kind, a wasteland lost to ruin and chaos. No sky of night or day could be seen, clouds of a poisonous smoke kept it blanketed from his eyes. Looking back the sorcerer, Xarphasus began to feel something nostalgic from within, familiarity of something. "My lord, you are safe here. There is much I must explain to you, but perhaps you'd feel more comfortable if we were at your castle." The sorcerer gently told him, "My castle, but we are not in my Halrilith." Xarphasus rebelled uncomfortably; the sorcerer snickered before indicating toward a landmark behind Xarphasus. "Your castle my lord." Xarphasus turned to look upon it, astounded in a flash by the structure that stood only a mile away. Xarphasus chuckled in wicked delight, but his lack of trust for the stranger still remained. "Wait, what is all this. Where am I?"

"I suppose you were too young to remember me, I was assigned to you as your tutor." The nostalgic feeling suddenly sprung up a distant memory within his psyche, "Vershiase?" Xarphasus uttered timidly. "Yes, it is I. My lord, I have brought you here to show you what destiny has set for you. Let's walk shall we." Vershiase insisted as he moved with Xarphasus at his side. "What is this place?" he pondered to him, "This is what is left of Walldeom, my lord. This is all that remains, ever since the dawn of time this land had long trapped the darkness left behind by Strahmin and his minions. Where some may say that this is a barren empty land, it is however something else. It is where we shall build our armies from my lord; this land shall host a force directly at your will. You understand what I speak of, don't you my lord?" Vershiase asked sinisterly. "The prophecy, you mean to say it is true?" Xarphasus gasped weakly, "I believe so, that prison was not what I had desired of you, for the king to do such is beyond my understanding. But here, you are no prisoner. I wish to make you something better, a king of your own accord." Vershiase explained. "But what of you, Vershiase?" Xarphasus asked in suspicion, "What do you mean my lord?"

"You might believe I have grown restricted in that sewer of a prison, but it doesn't mean I am submitted to foolishness. I know the Hall of Power has never tolerated traitors, does that not concern you at all?" Xarphasus asked him, scarce of confidence. Vershiase maintained his calmness, as well as his sinister grin. "I've served the Hall of Power for many ages my lord, if they were to suspect any of treachery it would most certainly not be me. Besides, the prophecy was kept secret from the Hall of Power, as well as the rest of the three kingdoms. Your father didn't feel the need to inform his people or his allies about it, and even so. The kingdoms are in no condition to be concerned of the prophecy; things have changed since you were imprisoned Xarphasus." Vershiase explained suavely as he continued to walk with him. "But why now, if this whole time I was meant for something else. Why of all times, why now?" Xarphasus investigated strongly, "For the right time my lord, the armies of the east were meant to battle their enemies as one, as allies. But, as time would most certainly do they have grown apart. The east is quickly becoming governed by independent kingdoms, unity is far from their grasp in these times Xarphasus. Only your father seeks to keep the kingdoms together, trying ever so timidly to hold onto that past glory of peace and prosperity. Times are bleak in the east, my lord. The right time to guarantee swift, utter victory would be now." Vershiase seduced him into evil enticement, making him imagine it happening as before his own eyes. "And in the end, would be left?" Xarphasus smugly asked, "A new era my lord, our era."

Xarphasus chuckled with wicked bravado, "What of the armies Vershiase, how will we build them?" Vershiase grinned at him with a cocky manner, reaching out with his arm fully stretched summoning magically his staff into his hand. And with a gesture of might, Vershiase emitted red and blue bolts of power from the staffs head, striking the ground and sky for miles on end. Xarphasus stumbled his footing as he watched it happened, and like a nightmare from a tortured soul the lands awoke the evil within. Battered, dark hands rose up through the soil, clawing way to emerge up to the night air. One by one they rose up, thousands upon thousands spread all across the land, condemned warriors from the darkest sides of history. Xarphasus smiled wide with horrid delight, fantasising the gruelling things his forces could do. "This is but only the start, we will need more. My lord, I shall take you to the castle of Walldeom, for now you must rest." Vershiase told him as he gently placed his hand on his shoulder, "Hang on, you're leaving?" Xarphasus asked in surprised response. "This land is not the only one that has the cursed and the damned roaming it, we must gather every possible soldier to join our cause. You may find some them...unique in their capabilities, besides we will need generals and plenty of numbers. An army of one force is only one thing, we will need multiple. In time my lord, but come. You must rest." Vershiase suggested teasingly, transporting him with the power of his magic, allowing the thousands of fresh troops to arrange themselves.

Evil had established a new face for itself, setting into the play the movements of its intentions and motivations. But as west subtly began building its forces the east remained quiet and unaware. Two peaceful days passed since Xarphasus' escape, the Prince and Princess had finally arrived at the city of Halrilith, the jewel in the Kingdoms' crown. Although the sky was clouded heavily and rain fell lightly, it was still a beautiful city to their eyes. Yet again, they daydreamed at their city, built at the far side of a fifty mile long field of rich green hills at both sides, and a large farming village right before it. The Prince and his followers rode onward, gaining closer onto their home, reading subliminal messages that were smeared on the cities' face: the rich, the poor, the average and the royal, but it did not ruin any gladdening sense of peace that it made for the troops. Like an eternal flower it would grow prettier, stronger and taller as time passed. The Kingdom proved to be the flair of humankind.

True to the Queens' words Prelethas, his sister and his soldiers had indeed arrived home. Their journey was damped only by the moisture of the rain, but that seemed barely acknowledged by a single one of them. Their horses were taken from them by squires once they had reached the mighty large front gate. The prince and princess standing eagerly outside of the city, counting the seconds it would take for the gate to open. They could smell the odour of the streets behind the doors, a mixture of plants and the tasteful baking of bread. The soldiers hopped on the spot impatiently as they waited, thankful to be home and back with their loved ones. And to their mercy the doors finally opened, the streets remaining as busy as when they had left, the entrance courtyard giving a wide opening, giving the soldiers enough room to march through. They stepped forward and into their warming city, embracing whatever offers that would come into their paths. "No matter how many times we return brother, it always feels so wonderful seeing this again." Hurna confessed with relaxation. Nothing now seemed to be burdening her, Prelethas chuckled next to his sister and admiringly stared upon the market district. "Don't think I will ever disagree with you on that. Although I think confetti instead of raindrops would be more pleasant." He attempted with humour. They looked at each other with smiles that only best friends would share. They laughed with happiness. "Alright you're dismissed; go home to your families." The Captain ordered sternly, all of them pacing off in hurried march and thrilled conversation. "Wait, wait, wait!" The prince yelled after his soldiers. "Do not forget, at night fall in the palace we are celebrating!", they cheered in joyous appraise of the invitation, sending them even faster into the city. "Captain." Prelethas said, "Yes sir?" he replied. "Try not to be late." He said in a friendly tone of voice. Blarin blinked and elevated his chin, "Wouldn't dare it." he replied firmly. The Captain and marched onward alone, not breaking his strict military manner of walking. Hurna chuckled amusingly to herself, "When is that man going to stop being stubborn?" she asked him rhetorically. "Have you not got friends you need to check on?" he asked in change of topic. "That I do, unlike you brother." She teased playfully. "Ah, I don't need any friends to kick around sister, that's why I have you." He said back in an equal tone. Despite the choice of words she felt touched none the less, overlooking the silly sense of rivalry they had as brother and sister. "I'll see you at the palace." He spoke as he gently kissed her forehead, giving her cheek a small pat before heading up to the north on the main road.

Hurna watched Prelethas march on for a short moment, before taking her steps but she however would head to east inward to the store districts. Like all princess's she would hailed and welcomed kindly by her people, she would smile and often wave to them as they did so, a token of her complimented person. Her journey was only two minutes in length, and before even arriving to see her friend she noticed that the store clerk had stormed out and was pacing towards her. The woman didn't notice the princess or noticing her own approach but this was a routine experience for them both. "Lorra!" Hurna yelled in greeting to the clerk. She was stunned by the sudden hearing of her name and within a moment she spotted the Princess walked swiftly toward her. "Oh thank the gods you have returned." She praised as she hugged her with gladness. "How is he? What's he done now?" Hurna asked as she watched Lorra's face transform from warming kindness into hopeless annoyance. It was obvious she had given up on working at the store, due to the owner and his bizarre ways. "It's been no different than living at Death Mountain; he just wont tidy up after himself or even go outside for a breath of fresh air. I don't know what to do with him; he will ruin whatever is left of that shop." Hurna couldn't help but laugh inside about the situation; it was nothing new to her but a repeated punch line. Filled with highly self assured confidence she reached inside her small pocket in search of money, taking out three rare gold coins to give to Lorra the store clerk. "Go to the market and get him some food, keep the rest and have the day off." She said nicely. Lorra displayed a clear posture of gratitude and refusal, something that a kind hearted working woman would often do in her presence.

"I couldn't Hurna I still have a few working hours ahead of me." She replied with worrying protest. The Princess gave her a sweet grin, "I insist Lorra. You've been working hard to keep his business running. You deserve it, please. Take it." Lorra felt very reassured and took the money with little sense of guilt. "Thank you." She said as turned back and walked quickly east to the market square. Hurna always enjoyed sharing her blessings with the citizens of her kingdom; a charitable feeling flowed inside her stomach and heart. It was one of the many attributes that her people loved: her kindness and consideration for not herself but her people. The princess then stood in the doorway of the shop and peered inside, the shop was only small with shelves covered in large books with various titles. The books told any who cared to look what the store was all about: Natural science and the works of a philosophical expert. The titles went on and on. All written by the same author: "Dr Celandro." Apart from the brilliantly waxed and polished wood flooring and green pattern wallpapers it was clear this shop was not very successful at selling its merchandise. Dr Celandro however was no where to be seen, but stairs in far end of the shop were an interest to the Princess. Her footsteps were loud and vibrant against the wooden floor; and anyone upstairs would have heard them very easily. As Hurna climbed the steps she could hear music playing from within the room; a string plucked instrument was being used by someone in a nearby room. Once she reached the top, a single door stood ahead of her, failing to hide the sounds behind it. Hurna waited for a moment outside the black painted door, patiently and curiously as to what the store owner was up to.

As she pressed her ear against the door, the music became clarified and it was indeed a string plucked instrument. A foot was also tapping against the wood flooring, who ever it was an experienced player. The princess opened the door slowly and the interior of the room moved into her sight. The room was darkened and barely visible, but the music was louder than Hurna thought. "Celandro?" she asked out in the hopes of revealing him. The princess however caught notice of a small trail of light seeping through the corner of a curtain in the left side of the room. Cautious not to damage anything on her way towards the curtains, she reached forward with her left arm and gripped a small metal chain that was linked to a pulling frame atop the curtains. She grinned and pulled the chain down hard, making the curtains fly wide open blasting a shockwave of light into the room. The man inside was stunned heavily by the sudden ray of light, and as a result he jumped out of his chair and fell down to the floor. The desk he was resting his feet on was the only thing that would cover him from the sunlight, although it did no harm to him. The music in the room ceased and the sounds of gulls coy and children playing took place. The room was more untidy than a bed room hosting ten children. Paper work and books were left scattered and open all across the room, empty mugs and plates were left out with food stains on them, clothes both clean and used were hanging on the candle holders and various other common room items just left unattended around the place.

The princess was disappointed at the failure of her friend's housekeeping skills. "I take it the case in the south went bad Celandro." she said sarcastically but kindly. Celandro reached onto the desktop with both hands to pull himself up into view. He was a man nearing his fifty's with short and thin black hair which had white trails due to his age. His face was rugged and tired; his eyes heavy and eye lids darkened. "Wha-what case?" he replied gruffly, his being throat dry and sore. Hurna could see that Celandro was struggling to regain his neutral state of mind as well as his neutral state of soberness. "The Nerasp case, the stolen heirlooms?" She said as she approached Celandro whilst trying to avoid the books and any other hazards on the floor. Hurna grabbed onto his shoulders to pull him up, but he was in a droopy and drunken state, barely being able to stand on his feet. The Princess groaned at the smell f him, not wanting to look at him as she could feel that only covering his body was a silk bed robe which she would dread to open.

"Indeed my lord." He said as he let out a brief belch, Hurna catching a taste of his drink, nearly gagging from its strong and sickly scent, making her wish to drop him if it meant escaping that foul scent. "I have to say doctor..." she spoke as she dragged him towards a bed built from a stack of books and a little pillow. "...you play well for a man who can barely keep his eyes open." Hurna then dropped him onto the books that he had been using for a bed, laying face down on the cotton white pillow. Celandro then moaned in ill discomfort, Hurna sighing with frustration before looking around for anything to help him, but the room seem far too messy to find anything. She shovelled through letters, papers, and books to try and find something. "Oh, Rosy red apples and, blue pearl tears." The Princess was stuck for a moment from the words of her friend but continued nether the less, ignoring his absurd meaningless rambles. "Ah! Lorran fetch me a pie!" Hurna then turned her search toward the desk draws, and to her luck she discovered a small medicine bottle.

It was small, brown, and read the label, "_Detoxification serum." _ Interested in its effects, she unscrewed the cork atop the bottle and approached the doctor. "Celandro!" she said loudly to keep him awake and alert, passing the bottle to him as he turned himself over to face her. He was slouched down as if he had no abdominal muscles to hold him up, drooling from his mouth as if he were paralysed. To her surprise, Celandro mustered whatever strength he had as he snatched the bottle from her and gulped it down like a drunk. She sighed yet again with hastened frustration, and from further interest, began looking through another pile of books, at the chance of maybe finding one about the serum she had administered him with. A loud thud blew out from the book made bed; Celandro had crashed back onto it with his face deeply relaxed and in a bizarre expression of numbness. A sharp pain shot like an arrow in his brain, he shut his eyes to ease it as he tried to recover his senses. "Serums and antidotes for the common drunk, by Dr Celandro_..._" Hurna observed him as she spoke from the book, making certain that she wouldn't miss anything that he may do. "Page thirty seven. Detoxification serum: the drunken cure. If you're an elderly or perhaps a young man suffering from the pressures of an engagement and believe your only sense enlightened escape is from a mug of ale or a bottle of rum then this is the solution to your problem.

You may be a night or a few hours or even a few moments away from a wedding that has taken weeks to prepare and you have been deeply drunk for quiet some time. Do not panic, taking just three sips of my drunken cure will instantly remove the affects and the smells left behind from your drink. Your bride will never even know that you had been drinking." Celandro snickered with pride over of his own book, but the princess grinned smugly as she read onto the next part. "My deepest apologises Hurna, I attended a rough party last night." He said innocently and back in his normal sophisticated sound of voice. "Should you exceed the dosage required you will suffer from side effects such as sharp headaches, stomach cramps and a unique case of complete bowel relaxation." Fighting hard to contain her laughter, she carefully closed the book in her hands. "I do believe we have little time." Celandro placed his hands on his forehead and stood up from the bed. "Indeed. Welcome home Hurna." He replied as he gave her a tiny smile, before stumbling his way to the nearby door. "I take it your campaign was a triumph.", "It went better than expected Celandro, but what about that case you were on?" Hurna asked as she assisted her friend towards the door.

"The report from the village count said his family heirlooms were stolen." Hurna spoke casually, "It was a scheme Hurna. The count had sold them to market merchants and tried to frame his maids as theives." He answered, "How long did it take to crack the case?" she asked curiously, "Only half an hour." He said with little credit, but Hurna was startling amazed by his abilities. The door opened to a laboratory that took up three floors of the house, Celandro had fitted in a large metal spiral stair case to scale on it. There were industrial mechanisms and engines at the bottom of the room, and metal pipes leading up and connecting to huge water tank on the overhead steel flooring. And lastly at the top was a telescope device aimed out of a small opening through the roofing tiles where the rain was falling quite freely from it. The room was more alive and cleaner than the previous; Celandro then sat himself down on a wooden chair next to industrial mechanisms. "Have you ever considered doing anything else apart from research?" Hurna asked as he studied the industrial engines, "Numerous things Hurna, I've tried afternoon strolling, fishing barehanded, dancing nude with dwarf nobleman but none of it is helping. Is, is it raining?" he asked dumb founded. "Yes Celandro, that hole you keep putting in the roof would be why the rain keeps coming in." She looked away and back at the opening, it was clear that he had kept breaking it open despite numerous repairs being done to it. "I tell you this time and time again, how am to see where the gods are if I don't have a good view of the sky?" he asked in clever tongue. "Besides I sort of like the sound of rainfall, it is rather..." Hurna frowned at him. "It's leaking downstairs... Look, I've come to ask for something." She explained as he walked back towards the door. "Oh yes Princess and what would it be? Frog skin, Ghoul eyes, some kind of magic finger nail?" he replied with sarcastic humour. She responded with only an acted displeased expression.

"No. My brother and I are hosting a celebration tonight, dinner at the palace; I'm asking if you'd like to come." Celandro walked around the room bracing his hands on metal machine next to him. "I'd love to dear, but I'm afraid I am busy tonight due to alternate plans." He said but it was failed to convince her, the princess could seeing right through his lie like a window, "Really. What plans?" She teased, "I am...going on an expedition, yes umm, tonight."

"Celandro you could have fooled me if you said you were going to visit a friend in Zirla. Or that you were going to Mount Death for a holiday." She replied with wicked but playful sentiment. "I am simply refusing this time Hurna, an invitation is an offer and offers can be refused." He stated thoroughly. She gave him a calm smile with a friendly glance, "I have decided what I am doing, so there you are. No changing it now. Nope, nothing will." Princess Hurna shook her head slowly, patiently waiting for the answer she wanted. "Fine, very well. I've deduced. So I will go." He said with surrender, making Hurna giggle with childlike fun. "Thank you Celandro. Well I would love to stay and see the side effects happen but I must see my father. In the mean time I've sent Lorra to get some things from the market, but I will see you tonight." She said with a big smile as she opened the door. Celandro exclaimed and shook his head as he went to walk up the stairs, "Be sure to look smart."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter three  
In village of the Forest Wolf Clan, the storm of rainfall and lightning did not disturb this region at all. The villagers remained under shelter, but those little lingering in the open hurried back and fourth to tend to their chores. The trees of the forest rustled against the wind, leaves galloping on its stride to be scattered, the wheels of nature continuing to turn without halt. But this was not fault to that of any in this part of the land, as smoke poured up from the chimneys of the village, the impression of returning to a warm house to stay in would be common courtesy in a moment as this. Despite the shelter of the village, Vundi had chosen to be alone in the blacksmith workshop. The Anvil and furnace was raging with heat, the amber of flames gently danced nearby, allowing Vundi to absorb it as he remain stood against a wooden column.

Vundi ran a small flat sided rock against the tip of his spear, sharpening it down to a razor edge. Despite his history of use with the weapon, he took a few moments to simply look at it, his eyes running up and down its form. He grinned to himself, impressed at his own craftsmanship, a hidden sense of vanity that it's only shared between the maker and the weapon. Wondrously, he ran his hand across the feathers of birds tied at the upper shaft, a complimenting feature to its appeal. Kovalti however stood a silent spectator, watching how his friend was behaving.

"Best place to stay in, when a storm is at the rise." Kovalti spoke calmly from doorway, "Hm, ah it depends on the kind you're dealing with." Vundi replied as he rested his spear on a nearby table. "That old furnace never fails to keep you warm."

"It can give you a good weapon too, if it's a storm of enemies." Kovalti uttered tiredly. The two glanced at the each other for a moment, listening to the rainfall as they waited to talk. "Theilion and his new bloods, they've been gone for a while now." Kovalti said, "Ah, you how he is Kovalti. Doesn't want to stay still for too long, but doesn't want to run for too little neither. It's as if he was made for it." Vundi said as he daydreamed. "You were thinking about much then?" Kovalti carefully asked, "Hmm, this and that really. My mind wonders is all, a sign of old age I reckon." Vundi snickered as he tended to the fire. "Oh come on, it's all that time you spend in the inn nowadays, ah not like in the old days my friend. You used to be the quickest fellow on his feet, didn't think anything could outrun you." Kovalti boyishly praised. "Nobody ever could. Not until..." Vundi mumbled before stopping, a reminding thought cutting his motivation completely. Kovalti glanced up to see it in his eyes, the look of clouded bother, and yet again they fell to the sound of rain. "Still haven't told him." Kovalti spoke quietly in assumption, Vundi breathing hard under his breathe, wanting to disintegrate. "It's just. How do you tell someone that, you know? I've looked him in the face every time we've spoken, and I can see it as clear as rain that he believes, absolutely believes everything I've told him. Granted, I love him as a son. But, how can I tell him the truth without changing everything he's been brought up to believe?" The grandmaster confessed to him, a burdening plea of comfort picked under his voice.

Kovalti pondered as what to say, turning back to see if anyone was in the blacksmith with them. "Look, I don't see him turning away from all this. From you or from anyone really, alright it won't be the best of things for him to hear. But I think maybe, the sooner he knows the better. Theilion won't take it well at first but that's normal, I don't have any doubts that he'll suddenly run away. What else is out there for him?" He struggled to say his words fluently but Kovalti had none the less made a slight impact on his friend, "Your right, I think I've probably over thought this." Vundi sighed before gulping down his tears, "No wonder you're in the inn almost every night, drinking your anxiety away." Kovalti joked with me, causing them both to laugh briefly and ease the atmosphere. "Nothing drastic is going to happen; he's his own man now. You've seen what he's taken out there plenty of times, this shouldn't be anything that he can't handle." Kovalti said as he continued to comfort him, "Oh, but. But what if he takes it badly?" Vundi doubted sadly, "Knock it off will you, your starting to sound like my wife. Don't keep thinking about it, otherwise I'll take you outside and drown you in the rain." Kovalti uttered as he playfully punched Vundi's chest, "You get on out of here you cheeky sod, go on." Vundi chuckled as he played along with him. "Alright, save yourself the effort. Just stop thinking, you'll get older quicker." Kovalti yelled as he backed away outside, taking his leave to be elsewhere.

Vundi stood alone by the anvil as he did before his friend's arrival, watching as the rain continued to pound the earth outside, slipping back into his world of thoughts he delved, again on his troubles. Amidst the showering rainfall and soaked soil, Theilion had taken refuge inside a small cave, himself and his hunters gathered around a small fire, their thick layered cloaks doing little to keep the cold at bay. As where the younger hunters sat shivering together, Theilion had braved the cold, occupying himself by preparing a pan with some fresh meat ready to be cooked. As he oiled down the pan, he looked over to see his hunters suffer at the mercy of the weather. "Better get used to it quickly lads, this isn't the worst thing to deal with yet." He instructed gently, a small sneeze echoed in the cave from one of the hunters. "I'm sorry Theilion, haven't quite adapted yet." The hunter bravely said, earning himself a respectful nod from his master. "Oh you will, sooner or later you'll get as comfortable with it as if it was that fire in front of you." Theilion lowered the pan gently over the top of the flames, a sizzling of heat brewing up from it. "How long did it take you master?" One of the hunters asked, Theilion paused momentarily to recollect the memory, playing it out in his mind. "About two weeks, I think. Well it was constant rainfall for that time, and we were...just pass the southern reaches of the forest. You know, near the Zirla border." Theilion started to explain, their heads nodding to confirm their knowledge of the location. "Anyway, it was the middle of the sky dawn season so you can imagine why the rain didn't end. We spent the first week trying to find tracks of a giant that was making its way north, into one of the more peaceful parts of the forest."

"I heard about that, didn't it come across a den or something?" One of the curious hunter's asked, the other two hitting him to hush him up.

"Yes it did, that's why we had to keep track of it. You see, everything follows a certain pattern; nature is one that has a strict way of this. The forest nurtures and gives life to countless creatures, us included. But sometimes, the pattern becomes broken. Usually a rogue wolf, or a bad blood bear, or sometimes a lion, but this time it was a giant. Now normally, giants have a territorial range of up to thirty miles and they'll within that radius. This one was drifting well out of its own one, and as a result of that, anything that comes across it paths ends up dead. Giants may be big and clumsy, but they can rip apart trees with their own hands. So you can wonder what it'll do to a man.

At the end of the first week, we came across an empty opening by a stream, that's where the wolves den was. We knew the giant had come through because; it had killed the lot of them, even the cubs. The poor things, at that point we knew now what we had to do. We have to follow the track it had left behind, hunt it, find it, and then kill it." Theilion stared blankly into the pan of food, his hunters all staring at him, baffled by his story. "Did you?" one of them asked, Theilion however couldn't respond, dug too deep into his remembrance of the event. The young men did nothing except observe the look of their masters' face, seemed blank at first but everything that Theilion felt in that time could be seen strictly in his eyes. Not one of them dared to ask again, but one of them reached forward to take the pan into his hand, catching Theilion's attention. "It's not done yet, leave it a little while longer." He uttered quickly as he took it back onto the fire. "Do they do that often?" One of them asked innocently, "I'm sorry?" Theilion replied, "The giants. Do they drift out often?"

"No. Not that often." Theilion spoke quietly, still buried in thought. "But one might again someday, and when it does. You guys better ready for it. I can only tell you that they aren't easy to kill, but. You'll find a way." Theilion then pressed the meat along the pan with a small stick, sizzling louder in response. "So how did you kill one?" the curious hunter asked again, "Can we not talk about this anymore. Please?" the hunter next to him firmly demanded. A sudden wail of a horn blew from afar, loud enough to be heard under the rainfall on rocks, turning Theilion back to face the cave mouth. "Don't think were going to have time for it anyway, I don't recognise that horn." Theilion said worrying, "It's coming from the village isn't it?" the curious hunter asked. "Yes, and that's what worries me. Get your things were heading back now, don't worry about the food we'll eat when we get back." Theilion commanded as he grabbed his sword and stood himself up, leading his hunters out of the cave and back into the trees of the forest. The sun lowered to its inevitable rest, a shadow of growing blackness it's hold strongly across the land.

The horn had shaken awake the village with madness; the music from the inn ceased, every villager peered out to investigate. Vundi was brought out of his current thoughts as well as his hut; searching for the source of the signal. Faint light could be spotted rising from the heads of the trees; Vundi noticing as he rushed down with his spear in his hand to the rest of the villagers from the inn. "What's going on?" he quickly asked. "Open the gate!" a voice shouted from affront of the forest trees. Vundi ran to the steps leading him up to the wall walkways, to peer out to see who it was calling out, but before him instilled fear. A small army stood formatted tightly together, a trickle of torches spread out among them illuminating the environment around them. The hunters were overwhelmed by what they were seeing, their rest of secrecy completely crushed, as an ocean of armoured killers demanded way into their home.

"Who is in charge of this place?" The bandit leader barked, standing up on a tree trunk to show his status among his men. Kovalti joined his friend at the walls armed well for a fight, "Must four hundred bandits or more. But how could they have found us?" he asked with surprise, "They didn't, they stumbled onto our den." Vershiase whispered under his breathe. "WHO is in charge here!?" the leader repeated, growing impatient. The Clan leader gazing upon the bandit leader, noticing the superior armour and weaponry he had, as well as the scars of a criminal with a career. "I am!" Vundi yelled down to him, catching his focus.

"Who are you woodsman?" he yelled calmly, "Vundi, your trespassing on clan territory stranger, turn back. You're not welcome here." He said with sturdy pride. The bandits laughed at him with mockery, "Your reputation fails you Vundi..." The bandit leader rudely spat, "...Never heard of any clan roaming in these parts, have to say though its a nice wall you've built here for yourself. It's just too bad that it won't keep us out, however, if your wanting to let off without any pain then you'll listen to my offer." The bandit smugly spoke as he folded his arms, "How about this: you turn back, and head the way you came from. This is a home we built ourselves, and I won't have my people be bullied out of it. You'll find no peasants here bandit, only death." Vundi bravely yet calmly yelled to him, but the leader was not threatened by his tone, his smirk of confidence set his opinion into clear light. Mean spirited laughter grew among the bandit army, Kovalti signalling to any villagers, quickly spreading the word of what was going on. The bandit army was more than ready for a fight, strongly convinced that the hunters would stand no chance against them. The hunter's could see it, the itchy feel for a battle, confident and eager for it. Vundi kept little hope in talking them out of fighting, it be foolish to even try. "Take one good look old man, you think you and your lot can take us on?" The bandit leader taunted him, causing a motivating yell from his men, banging their shields together to intimidate him. "Kovalti, get our warriors up here." Vundi ordered toughly to him, "Man the walls!" He shouted fiercely out into the village, calling fourth all of the clan's remaining hunters racing to the entrance wall.

The bandit leader drew up his sword, taunting for his men to rev up their hearts in bloodthirsty lust for battle. The ranks of the clan spread out along the walls, mixed up in their age and blooding. Taking aim out into the horde, a monstrous cry of war roaring up over the trees, the bandit leader raising his sword up to initiate the attack. "Hunters, fire!" Vundi commanded loudly, sending out a wave of fifty arrows total, each one striking at the forefront of the enemy formation. A stack of bodies flung to the soil upon taking the arrowheads, but the advancement was only slowed a little. It was but only seconds before a showering of hands and armoured bodies clashed against the wooden gate, but its stubborn design barely moved upon impact. For the time, the bandits were unable to make their way pass the village defences. Wave upon wave of shots struck them down within the passing moments, however those fitted with shields had survived but the eighty three had not. But from the darkness of the forest, a support group fired their own deadly against the village wall, vastly outnumbering the shot count of the hunters. "Down, down!" Kovalti shouted, the defenders ducking against the wooden barrier, a sound of darting wood coming up from the other side.

Vundi peered over to spot any archers from the trees, but they had cleverly hidden themselves within the shrouds of darkness and bushes. "I can't see them!" Kovalti informed him as he too peaked over to view, "Burn the gate down!" The bandit leader violently commanded, taking his position among the formation, and from the midst of them all they gave way for only several of their men to proceed forward as they carried large black barrels. "Quick! Take them out!" Vundi commanded as he retook his aim, many of his own following the same course of action, shooting the barrel loaders only. The enemy archers consisted with another volley, compelling the hunters to duck down again or face mortal wounding. Screams and cries of agony erupted from below, Vundi panting along side his warriors, cautious from the marksmen but still in dire need of a new strategy. "They're still moving them forward, what's in those things?" A young hunter yelled, "Most likely fuel so they can burn the gate down! Does anyone have a flare head on them?" Vundi quickly requested, Kovalti taking out the desired arrow. "Okay, fire a shot out into the tree line, the rest of you watch for their archers. We need to scatter and pick them off!" Vundi Commanded as he prepared to fire again, "But that'll set the trees alight!" Kovalti cried in revolt. "We'll have to deal with it after, go Kovalti! Fire the shot!" He shouted under strong enforcement, his friend standing up like reflex to fire his bow.

A fiery orb of green light glowed brightly like a shooting star, flying passed tree after tree until darting into a single one. A wave of fire erupting along the leaves and branches the flare had passed, but the green ray of light illuminated dark figures hurrying away, exposed now to the eye line of the clan. Hissing of arrows passed overhead most of the enemy warriors, resulting in a quick yelp of pain growing out from the ranks of the archers, being picked off like prey. But this provided a small window for the bandits, taking up the fuel barrels again and hurling them toward the gate, banging loud times below the hunters. Before the right adjustment could be made, a roof of shields protected the forward soldiers, easily able to set up the gate for burning. Families of the village hurried to see what had been happening, gathered nearby to see the battle rage on. "Vundi, we can't stop them now!" Kovalti yelled at him, "We have time, focus your fire on the ones you can hit! We need to thin them out as much as possible!"

The fight had been only several minutes in duration, but by now the bandit's losses numbered them in half, but their manic drive to keep fighting flew high. The flames of the tree line quickly began to spread, flushing out even more of the enemy, but as the fires of the forest grew a new one was started by a single torch. A trail of flames crawled sinisterly along the mud path, sending the entirety of the gate into a phoenix of flames. The thorns of flames scared off anyone who dared to aim from the wall, cutting off any accurate hope of a shot rendering the position useless. Vundi slipped his hope piece by piece, forcing himself to make a different call. "Hunters...pull back!" Vundi commanded in a beaten tone, Kovalti spotting the grouping of villagers at the far end of the pathway. "You lot get out of here, Head to the other side of the village now!" He barked at them, fearing the danger they were placing their selves in. The gate crackled and disappeared behind a wall of fire, furiously spiralling under black smoke, the hunters watching it helplessly.

"Call it Vundi." Kovalti uttered, his warriors awaiting the grandmaster's orders. "Alright, we only have a short time before that gate collapses so until then we need to contain them in this area. Veterans, position yourself on the inn balcony and atop of the houses opposite, bottleneck the gate. Kovalti, you and the rest of us will hold our ground here. We won't stop them moving completely, but we need to keep them at bay as long as possible. Get going!" Vundi ordered boldly, his warriors moving to action as the separated from him, scaling the rooftops and heading into the inn. "Two lines front and back. Ready your bows!" Kovalti commanded, kneeling along side the grandmaster as the front line, the other half standing behind. Outside the walls, the war cry still echoed triumphantly, the rise clouds of smoke rising thicker and taller nearing a hundred feet. The sky darkened like a reflection of the grim odds the Forest Wolf clan faced, but as the pair of ten archers had set themselves ready, so had the thirty remaining on the ground. The rushing adrenaline of the battle starting to takes it effect on them, as a never ending drum roll of beats rung in their ears, hearts pounding merciless to trickle veins in their muscles. The bow pulled tightly back against their quill in their fingers, the handle grip itching beneath their hands as pestering as a loud child. But they didn't move, not one of them dared to twitch in the ranks, the stakes of the fight racing in their minds as they struggled to focus, reminding themselves of what the ground was before them. A portion of the gate began to crumble and collapse, breaking onto the soil beneath. "It was an honour to know you all my friends." Vundi calmly confessed, embracing them vocally one more time before the end.

The shielded wall of bandits battered themselves against the gate, completely breaking it apart and giving way for the small force to invade. "For home!" Kovalti roared as the hunters unleashed together a wave of arrows, the deadly sharp eyed shots striking head and neck, dropping the first of men to fight.

But as moments went on, the horde of iron and flesh drew too close. The ground hunters threw down their bows to take up their swords, holding steady until the wave of bandits clashed with them. In the heat of the fight, then hunters quickly established their ground as they possessed a more significant prowess in combat, working in unison as they slashed blocked and evaded attacks. However their skill was matched by the few hundred bandits left, blocking in as squared format pouring endlessly into the village. Vundi stood by his comrade's side, his spear striking bandit after bandit, yelling with every taste of blood upon his skin. As the marksmen hunters continued to fire into the main bulk of the enemy, they quickly became the next target as the enemy still possessed alternate methods. A wave of twenty arrows flung over from the flaming trees, striking down most of the hunters positioned on the roofs, falling off and into the courtyard. Bodies piled from the entrance to the battlefront, a thinning line of hunters fighting as hard as possible to hold off the enemy. In the midst of the chaos and death, Vundi found himself wondering where his son was at this time, if his person had suffered already at the bandit's hands. As his thoughts conflicted with his concentration, his men quickly spotted a retreating group of hunters moved from their elevated positions. The tide was looming atop of them, gaining over thirty kills in the time so far, more to come as the rest of archers joined the fight in melee combat. Kovalti pushed back with all his strength, his blade constantly in motion as it cut and sliced through limb and organ, earning a high kill count already. But his eyes quickly caught the movements of archers resetting to fire again, this time as an overhead shot hoping to take them out with one volley. "Incoming!" Kovalti screamed as loud as he could, the clan warriors briefly gazing up to spot the tiny arrow heads moving in from above. Without any form of cover, the hunters quickly knocked back whatever opponent they could, grabbing a corpse close by to hover above them.

As the arrow wave darted into the ground, soldiers of both sides fell as a result. The Forest Wolf hunters had lost fifteen as a result so far, eight fallen to the volley shot, but the bandit horde was beginning to grow more furious as their leader stepped into combat. Vundi spotted him as he marched vigorously through his forces, striking down any hunter who engaged him in combat with efficient skill. Blood spewed and covered the muddy path beneath them, the flames of the gate spreading outward along the walls, a picture of the destructive nature of the battle. Vundi could see the challenge from the bandit leader, fighting his way forward through the horde to reach him.

Despite the numbers greatly overwhelming the hunters they fought on as able as they could, but one by one a hunter began to fall to the enemy, few minutes in and the morale of the Clan had started to slip. Vundi however maintained his courageous choice to fight his way through and take on the Bandit leader, marking his place on battlefield as a foe to be wary of. Vundi's spear swiftly struck against the blade of the Bandit leader, his strength and speed matching his own. The Bandit leader pushed on through at the Grandmaster, forcing back toward the battle line, but Vundi held up his guard and deflected every jab and slash attempt at his body. The two of them engaged in a duel like battle of their own, steps away from the front line until Vundi pressed his attack more ferociously. Halting the leader's advancement completely, his spear pressed strongly against his sword, the tip of it pointing but inches from his face. Until the leader shifted in weight and balance, sending the spear to his side before grabbing a hold onto it, trapping it as he attempted a single thrust motion of his sword. Vundi reached up with the hand he had left, locking its grip onto the bandit's arm ceasing the movement of his sword. The two of them struggled to precede any further in their fight, unnoticed by the men around them, their weapons shaking from the constricting powers in their arms. Vundi groaned and grunted as he pushed against him, but to his luck a fallen soldier clashed against the bandit leader, knocking the two of them free from their struggle. But as the horde ran over Vundi, he was quickly trapped by the bodies of fallen bandits, rendering him exposed to a final strike.

The Bandit leader quickly regained his footing and swiftly returned to fight his enemy, spotting the Grandmaster trapped under a pile of bodies making him leap upward to finish him off. Vundi took fast action to protect himself against his enemy, springing free his right arm to pick up a nearby sword, reaching up to block the attack the best he could. The blade shook strongly in his arm, the blade itself pulling back dangerously close, the bandit's sword striking the dirt next to him. Now operating on the instinct to survive alone, Vundi gripped onto the bandit's neck pulling him down to deliver a head butt to his nose. But as the leader fell back from the blow, Vundi caught eye of another volley of arrows heading directly at him. With seconds only react, he pulled the body as hard as he could to cover him but the speed of the shots was too much. The arrows darted on along the battlefield again, most of the hitting the fallen, with the exception of a single arrow striking Vundi into his throat. His neck ceased in movement as the pain engulfed his throat entirely, Kovalti recovered from the attack but saw that not only had the Grandmaster fallen but nine of his own. As the bandits remaining hundred reached inside, the battle seemed at the peak of victory for them. But at the far end of the field, a group of warriors had taken out the remaining archers in swift cunning speed, and alas let out a valiant war cry above the bandits.

Vundi peered down, his eyes fitting to gaze upon the warriors who charged through the flaming gate. Theilion and his hunters had returned, attacking with an extremely over energised pace compared to the bandits. Kovalti rallied the morale of his hunters under a cheer of bloodlust, his men fighting harder than ever to finish the battle off. The Bandits had become meat to a slaughter, falling to the unique abilities of the Grandmaster's son, dying at the dozens within a short minute forcing the Leader and a few of his own into surrendering.

The battle had come to its conclusion, lasting only twelve minutes in total, the bandits suffering a might loss of four hundred and thirty seven, their bodies streamed through the entrance of the village like a path of corpses. The remaining four had been pulled away had been placed inside a circle hunters, their weapons stripped and at the mercy of the clan.

Kovalti had quickly freed his friend from the bodies that pinned him down, carefully moving him away. Theilion hurried to him, dropping his sword to tend to his father's wound, both he and Kovalti laying him on an untouched patch of grass. Vundi gargled and choked on the blood flowing out of his wound, coughing as it poured up from his mouth. Theilion panted with fear, his eyes and hands wondering across his father's body, clueless and scared in what to do. Theilion turned away briefly to cry for help, bringing out the sheltering villagers to heed his call, gathering only so little by as the shock of reality hit them. "Father, father?" Theilion stuttered in tremble, his hand taking up his father's looking him as he eyes widened in shock and pain. "Kovalti can we save him?" he begged to him, but Kovalti's face faded into grief. "Kovalti?!"

"He won't make it Theilion." He uttered weakly, "Get what you need and come back; we'll try to fix him here." Theilion commanded quickly, "Theilion..." Kovalti sadly spoke at him, forcing his eyes up at his own catching a glimpse of the ill fated lack of choice that was left. The young hunter could see it was hopeless, standing himself up to yell out in heartbroken cries. "No!" he barked endlessly as his legs wondered him back and fourth in panicking pace. A wickedly cruel laugh brewed up from the bandit leader, smugly grinning as he watched the hunter weeping. A tearing shed of whimpers and sobs echoed amongst the villagers, Kovalti awaiting Theilions' decision as what to do. Moments of stillness had passed, the snapping and trickling of fire heard faintly in the distance, and a fresh scent of blooded mud reeked from all around. Failing in believing what had happened Theilion sobbed uncontrollably at the sight of his dying father, compelled cruelly and unfairly to do what must be done. Stepping unwillingly forward into the grass patch, the hunter gazed at the weakening eyes of his father leaning down to rest his knee next to him. A tear spilled from Vundi's eye, a glimmer of the little bit he had left in him but it was not of fear that sparked within it. Vundi reached up to softly hold Theilion's cheek, patting him affectionately before slipping down into Theilion's hand. Every one of them looked up the Grandmaster's son, as he drew a small hunting knife from its sheath.

Not matter of strength could bring Theilion to do this, no desire, no hatred, no longing to do as such. Staring eye to eye, Theilion froze in hesitation, his tears dripping from his chin and onto the grass. Vundi smiled upon his boy, faint in strength but deep in its acceptance. "I love you." Theilion whispered timidly before thrusting the knife into his father's chest, a momentary yelp of pain erupted. But as the dusk faded, brightness shined up from the sky above them, all of the surviving warriors and the villagers gazed up to see. The polar lights glowed ever so slowly as they watched, the spirit world revealing itself upon the canvas of the night sky. A feeling of the life beyond death bloomed inside them all, as if the spirits of the fallen flew up right before their eyes, floating freely to their rest. Vundi's hand began to weaken in its grip, Theilion turning back to see his father lifeless, eyes closed and smile gone.

The Leader of the Forest Wolf Clan was dead. The peaceful sense of purity had now been converted into the scorched remains of a cruel battle lost. There was no mercy stored for the bandits, as Kovalti screamed with fury he cut down the last of them into messy and gored pieces. Theilion and all that had followed his father felt nothing but mass grief, the blood on the soil would always be there, no matter how hard the rain would fall again to wash it away. The night was young and the moon had only begun to take place as the polar lights faded, too late to see the battle's climax. The forest was forever changed by this day and it would be a loss that a few would ever recover from. Celebrating victory was not an option, thinking of doing so felt wrong. The fight felt unnecessary and devastating. There was no honour to be salvaged from it. It would be a cold chapter in the history of the great forest, that which only a few would know of. But the night was still young and there was other events awaited to take on course.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter four   
In the royal palace of Halrilith moods and emotions were higher than that of any other in the land. The Family of the crown were dining together with the Captain and his loyal troops, all dressed formally and neat for the occasion. The Dining hall hailed with the sounds of talk and bards, the combination and mashing of voices against instruments with the occasional arising of laughter. A massively built wooden table stretch with two lines of chairs, a single one not empty, a parallel shape of the cotton sheet beneath the vast dishes and jugs of food and wine. Riches of luxury warmed the hearts and stomachs of the King's guests, a rare blossom as to a flower denied of sunlight. As always the arranged format allowed the King to be sat at the far end of the table, companied by his Wife and descendants, as well as their council members. Under the brightly light chandeliers and lanterns, Denfils rose up calmly from his chair, lightly tapping a small spoon against his wine glass. The rummage of conversation and music eased down, until all present looked to their King.

"Before I begin, I wish to first give my thanks to our marvellous bards tonight whom have given this hall such enchanting warmth. And my thanks also to our fine cooks tonight, who have blessed our table flawlessly once again." Denfilis praised, all who dined repeated his saluting gesture. "However, my highest gratitude goes to no other more than everyone who has been able to join us, and also to those who could not. It grieves me to learn of our fallen, be it of a small cost or large. I propose we forge now, a token to their service to our great kingdom, as they rest in the cherishment of Yerlon, forever basking in treasures that only the honoured deserve. Rise with me all." Denfilis gently spoke, all of them standing from their seats each holding up a drink.

"To our gloried dead, to their prideful families, and to the prosperity of all, Hail to their memory!" Denfilis proudly hailed, his voice sparking a vast replication from his guests, the hall bursting momentarily to tribute. Only then to fall silent as they drank to their victory. But without prediction in this moment of respect, the grand doors opened swiftly and from the hallways entered an unexpected guest. An elderly man bound in a blue robe walked quickly into the hall, his long brown hair drew back against air. No one dared to move against the old man, as the blue crystal of his staff dimmed with light, a recent use of magic to speed his journey. The King and his council knew in an instance of the old man, Olraman who was a trusted and long serving sorcerer to the Kingdom. Yet it seemed disturbing for him to arrive with such a hurried entrance; but regardless of it the King wanted to know why. "Olraman?" he greeted him as he stood away from the table. "Denfilis forgive my uninvited arrival, but I have to speak to you right away." He said with focused concern. The King stepped closer, compelled to listen but not willing to spoil the entertainment of his guests, Denfilis turned his eyes toward them, the Queen standing up casually. "Play on." She said as she waved her hand to the bards. "Olraman they've only just returned home, the campaign has been costly." He whispered to Olraman, noticing the same crescendo of lute and talk. "This cannot wait Denfilis I've been sent with the news of utmost importance." Olraman demanded calmly, "Olraman can this not wait?" "No!" Olrama yelled loudly at him, snatching back the attention of the guests and the band. "Play on." He yelled kindly to them, awkwardly doing so as they did. "It's your son Denfilis, he escaped the prison." He said quietly, triggering a haunting memory he would pray to forget, his heart then bled with sickening fear. "Xarphasus...?" he uttered, "Yes. They say he fled with someone to Walldeom. They are amassing their armies as we speak, they will be assembled and ready in at least a month." Olrama explained carefully.

Denfilis could merely register what was being said, his head raced in visions of his past, the images of his young son growing mad with age. Olraman was reluctant to speak; the dulling loss of words from the King spoke enough of how he felt. "I was certain, Olraman. That I would live and never hear those words, I had almost forgotten about him. But…" Denfilis softly spoke, before his eyes rose with his head, the widening expression of a thought hitting him in sudden strike. "…We must call a meeting with the leaders of the kingdoms; this prophecy may perhaps be the one chance we'll ever have." Denfilis spoke with newly inspired hope, but Olraman failed to see the logic that had engineered it. "Denfilis I must advice against this, you cannot be sure of what you're saying. Our allies do not know of the prophecy, this could shatter the truce and cause a conflict." He spoke in a controlled voice, "You surprise me Olraman, and I grow fearful at the thought of what may happen if we choose to be alone in this, this isn't a mass gathering of bandits and mercenaries. We need the kingdoms to unite." Denfilis urging his words out with a consistent tracking of thoughts, but the sorcerer was slipping under what was being said. "My friend this is not about them, this is about your sons. What is Prelethas to think should you tell him, or your daughter?" Olraman spoke quickly, breaking in to wake up the King from his analysing thoughts. "I've denied him the truth all his life. And it is clear that Xarphasus is Strahmin's descendant, I witnessed that madness in him many years ago, but what of Prelethas?" Denfilis spoke urgently. "I have my beliefs in him as well as you, but we cannot make any decision yet nor devise any plans for war." Olraman swiftly said, "Maybe so, if only you knew my wishes my friend. I am not blind to the dangers that we now face, or to how this news may affect my loved ones. But we both know that this is an opportunity for all the races to stand together, and if Prelethas is indeed born from Yerlon herself then he will need all the help that is required." Denfilis spoke in hopeful tone, Olraman grew frustrated with him. "But what shall happen if they refuse? Heilbrum and Olraro may take your silence on the prophecy as treachery, and you know full well of their lack of tolerance. I must ask you tend to your company, leave this news under your tongue until it seems necessary to speak of it again." Olraman calmly instructed, "Olraman, you've been a great lecturer and friend to me and my family ever since the beginning. I have not doubted you for a moment, or refused your wisdom in any dire time. But now, I see something differently to you, which is a first. I will take what you have said into thought, but I must ask you to send word to the other kings. I may have to keep the truth of the prophecy a secret, not of deception but to prevent refusal."

The sorcerer then let out a sigh of frustration, discomfort in restraining himself from arguing any further. "I will do as you ask, but I warn you Denfilis. They will not be easily persuaded, with or without the truth.", "Then make haste Old friend." Olrama nodded and proceeded to exit the room. "What is it, father?" Prelethas asked curiously worried from his chair; Denfilis gulped down the guilt inside him and turned his head to him. "Nothing my son, please drink up! Eat! I will be back shortly." He said uneasily as he too left the room through an alternative door into the hallway leading him toward the grand library.

Queen Nitika was troubled by her husband's sudden departing and she too excused herself from the table pursue after him. The king was walking quickly down the dark hallway, trying to escape the room and the guilt that walked with him. "Denfilis!" she yelled to him as he was not in clear sight. "Denfilis!" she yelled even louder but did not hear a response, until a door at the end of the hallway opened and the escaping light from the room revealed the King to her. "Denfilis!" she yelled once more, this time he failed not to notice as he turned back to look at her. She sped up and closed in to inspect on him. He lowered his head as she placed her hand softly on his shoulder. "My love, what is it?" she asked him softly and caringly, but he remained still. "I have longed believed it all to be a mere dream, I'm afraid to now only know it be quite real." The king said with hopelessness, Nitika glanced at him, confused. "What is it you speak of?" she asked, then with buried strength he looked up and into her face. "Xarphasus." It shocked her to hear those words, and her heart raced with fear. "But how?" she asked, "He was freed somehow, and taken to Walldeom." Nitika panted weakly, her hands trembled slightly as she lunged herself into her husband's arms. "Then it is true, it's all true." Nitika cried in scarce, halted together with the King.

Something was crawling through the shadows and night air. Fate's darkly messenger sent to set the course of events wrapped in the ever growing plans of time. As the word spread to only a few of the east, in the west Xarphasus and his newly found purpose were both setting comfortably. Cleanly dressed and fitted with dark coloured clothes, he sat on his throne in the tallest tower of his dark metal and stone castle, over watching through the smoke and flames made from industry the thousands upon thousands that toiled away to expand his forces. Foundations had been set and scattered throughout the land, readying to create the tools and requirements to forge their weapons and armour. The tumbling rattles and batters of labours trickled across Walldeom, Xarphasus hearing it faintly as he had chosen to remain alone in the familiar feel of isolation. His still calm posture suggested thoughts of a loner, his steady breathes and pale open eyes demonstrated a man in mental wonder. A secondary nature to any prisoner whose majority of life had been spent constricted in a cage, unwary of the world around them. His dreaming method of exploration was broken to the sounds of black metallic doors opening under the cranks of retracting locks. Gazing to the doors, Vershiase swaggered inside the chambers with a cocky grin catching Xarphasus' eyes. "You look smug. What news do you bring?" Xarphasus asked as he rose from his chair, "Progress of our forces is exceeding ahead of our plans, I predict within the week we will be working on forging new weaponry." He replied confidently, "But what of my generals?"

Vershiase laughed quietly to himself, his smile growing sinister. Heavy footsteps began to slip in from the darkened hallway and under the light of the candle lit walls entered two figures. "My lord, may I introduce Zirlerom, and Seliruice." Both of them had become entirely visible to Xarphasus who reacted with sickened excitement at the potential that stood before him. His eyes studied along the curvy thin figure of Zirlerom, the complimenting effect and length of her brightly blonde hair captivated by the thunderous blue seen in her elven eyes. An Immediate pulse of sexual interest hit Xarphasus like a fragrant perfume, desiring to see her milky skin under her crystal blue robe. Zirlerom felt herself being watched, or better yet desired. She chuckled in flirtatiously manner, slowly shifting her body weight from one side to the next. "The pleasure is mine." Xarphasus suavely uttered, before the demonic breathes of Seliruice caught his utmost attention. Gazing at the ten foot tall man, he felt a total lack of masculine pride in comparison to not only his height, but his impressively built frame. Despite the two overwhelming traits, his instantaneous notice was of the abnormally constructed anatomy he had which was one half his body of flesh, and the other half stone but still possessing the same mobility and motion as if entirely of skin. The bizarre appearance of his body showed the sign of a curse placed upon him, but the open vest he wore along with the armoured leg greaves and boots showed he was of dwarf kind. "Duoden?" Xarphasus carefully asked. "Aye, heightened dwarf." Seliruice replied, his monstrous voice trembling through Xarphasus' body.

"I am at a loss for words Vershiase, well done." Xarphasus complimented, stepping more closely with self-assurance. "Word is reaching many members of the damned, but I am only accepting those who are worthy enough to join my cause. Tell me Zirlerom, what makes you worthy?" Xarphasus asked flirtatiously, taking her hand gently into his own to kiss it. "I have come at a request, and a rather interesting proposal. I may benefit your cause as best I can, as long as gain some beneficial needs myself." Zirlerom's soft seductive voice carried, enrapturing Xarphasus immensely as they dared in eye to eye contact. "And what kind of needs, are those?" Xarphasus flirted, "I have some affairs to settle in my homeland, we are alike in associating with traitors, even those of the same relation." Zirlerom spoke under a disturbingly dark giggle. Slightly taken back by her response, Xarphasus smiled in wondrous delight upon her as his form of satisfaction for her reason. Letting her hand go unwillingly, Xarphasus then turned to Seliruice who's faintly ill green screen gave a small repulsive feel in his stomach making him struggle to look up at his darkly crimsoned eye.

"…and what of you Seliruice, are your services fit to be used here for my forces?" he asked as he gulped down his fear, Seliruice twitching in his cheek in frustrated imbalance. "I am here under the promise of commanding your army, as well as a guarantee that the Grelgo Kingdom and its entire people are slaughtered, as a reward for my services." He spat out in his a deeply demonic voice. "I believe their abilities alone will be enough to interest you, Zirlerom, would you kindly?" Vershiase calmly spoke. Patiently stepping out of the group, Zirlerom extend her forearms from her body as she bent her fingers little inward summoning a pair of frozen ice daggers. All watched as she demonstrated a small series of movements to display her impressively agile fighting style, throwing her daggers onto the metal wall creating a freezing effect on small section of the wall's length, bringing her display to an end. Xarphasus battered his eyes in awe of her skill, an erotic smirk extending across her face as she returned to them.

"The cold elements belong to her will, they move and act under her command. We may perhaps be able to harness this ability, give our warriors an edge in the fight to come." Vershiase explained. "And what of you Seliruice?" Xarphasus boyishly asked, "Perhaps it is best he show you that on the battlefield, his strength is that of a giant's and the stone forged from his flesh makes him not only near impossible to kill but it can render any sword or axe as delicate as wood to him. But now, I should introduce you to our third recruit." Vershiase smugly said as he marched toward the balcony, all three of them following behind him. The warm breeze floated underneath them, when finally stood together it was but only Xarphasus who looked across the landscape out of interest. The moments of nothingness shortened his patience for which the third was to be, but without any remote expectation at such a large dragon flew swiftly above them, making Xarphasus jump with fret. Roaring as a beast, together watching as it's wide but punctured wings let it glide smoothly across the sky, the moon reflecting from its poison green scales. Whatever amazement Xarphasus had felt when introduced to his first two recruits was nothing compared to sheerness he experienced from the dragon. Standing back as it swooped in to land itself on the bars of the balcony, balanced and stable as it's claws latched down. Xarphasus was free to examine visually at the beast's form, feeling it's hotly governed breathes upon his skin behind a jaw of crookedly sharp teeth. Gazing into the creature's piercing green yellow eyes, a mightily feel of power swarmed through Xarphasus' veins, a drunkenly manic enlighten that only the maddest of kings would feel. "Behold My lord, Byte, un-dead king of dragons, and master of the skies." Vershiase said with worship. An empowering sensation of invulnerability consumed the warlord's body completely, his heart speeding with pure adrenaline. "How can we be stopped?" he asked himself with insane ecstasy, "They know not of the fury that awaits them."

"But surely news of your escape will begin to spread; the east will know that you have been freed." Seliruice said, "And their men of action will devise a plan against us." Zirlerom included. "It is true my lord. King Denfilis will be greatly concerned of the prophecy, undeniably. And in time, he will be ready." Vershiase said with concerning tone. A sickening tightness struck Xarphasus in his stomach; his anger slowly leaking into his mind. "Tell me something Vershiase, why now? Why did you free me when you could have done it so long ago?" Xarphasus asked with suspicion. Vershiase backed slightly in felt threatened posture. "I had to choose the perfect time, when the kingdoms would be at their weakest. An unstable truce is all that keeps the north and south from slaying one another, they may perhaps see this as a moment of allegiance even if temporary but they are not match against the power we will unleash upon them." Vershiase replied calmly in respectful sound, Xarphasus then walked back into the throne room still cautious of the sorcerers' actions. "But you have been a member of the Order of power for many years Vershiase. Why have you chosen to help me? Why betray the gods?" Xarphasus asked in the same cautious tone, "You know not of their true nature my lord. They speak of blossom and fairness upon all that are of their creation, those of mortality and those without. I have served for centuries on end, not with question or doubt of their promises. But to be given such power, such knowledge only to be some pestering lecturer, or some tutor. I have done more than fulfil my oath to them, yet they still call upon me for more. I do not wish to speak out of envy, but after serving mortals for too long I grew tired of living. Until I was assigned to you my lord, I saw in you not only the wrath of Strahmin, but a chance to make better use of my purpose. Betrayal is a small price to pay for what the gods have inflicted upon me." Xarphasus dwelled silently, staring calmly at the sorcerer. "We all have our vendettas my lord, our scars. We are all condemned in our pain, so why not return it?" Seliruice balefully spoke, leaving the quiet tumbles of the labourers outside to fill the emptiness. Xarphasus gradually walked back to his throne, sitting upon it as he had before directly into thought. "My father will cease this chance, he will make certain to unite his allies not matter the turmoil they face currently. Vershiase, you must find out when he plans to have them meet, do what you must to prevent any of his friends from joining him." Xarphasus sternly commanded him. "As you wish, my lord." Verhaise respectfully answered, "All of you, leave me be." Together they march calmly out of their leader's sight, closing the doors behind them.

In the Forest of Halrilith, a time of grimness had fallen heavily upon all who lived there. The men were piling out the bodies of their fallen enemies back out of the village, and onto a stack of broken firewood, prepping to be burnt as where the bold hunters who fell in battle were taken to the gathering theatre, and prepared in a more compassionate method. As the villagers attended to the damages of their homes and the warriors to the burial requirements, Theilion had placed himself in the small hut that he grew up in, in his sanctuary from the coldness of the world.

Hours upon hours of tear shed had left him dead in his stillness, his face dampened and delicate to the breeze. Mourning had felt the same as the guilt he placed on himself, holding a direct responsibility for the tragedy of his home. Yearning for it all to be changed, Theilion would constantly act out the battle taking place differently in his mind, or not taking place at all for the better sake of his suffering. But no matter how much prayed and begged for change, nothing would alter or bend to his need. Unlocked from his reimagining of the battle, a knock suddenly came from his door, but his lack of motivation and energy allowed him to ignore it, but regardless to the knocker he or she entered. Theilion kept his eyes and head down, sulking in utter depression and grief. Kovalti had quietly come to see him, saddened too for his loss of a personal friend. No talk was conjured up from either one of them, clueless as what to even say, let alone be capable of speaking as one would do so. "I'm sorry Theilion. Do you want to see him before they finish the preparations?" Kovalti asked timidly yet careful, his words holding no effect on Theilion. "Okay." Kovalti spoke as he turned. "Kovalti." Theilion said in a soaked and low tone. "Yes?" he asked him, "I should have gotten here sooner..."He said but Kovalti shot into his words to quieten him. "No, no, Theilion...", "If I never took them out hunting with me, I..." Kovalti approached Theilion, putting his left hand on his shoulder, ceasing his line of talk. "This was not of your failure, you got it here only when you could, and none of this can be put on you what so ever, none one but those bandits." Kovalti warmly spoke to him. "He stood his ground Theilion, he fought with honour." Kovalti smiled weakly, gently tightening his grip. Theilion sighed enduringly as the grief inside demanded his tears. Kovalti took in a deep breath and waited, letting the young hunter mourn ever so more, hoping to relief some of the pain. But, in the moments that Theilion spent crying Kovalti felt somewhat of burden emerge suddenly, the recollection of the conversation he last had with Vundi in the blacksmith. A request seemed to have been given to him, a favour from the spirit world delivered by Vundi himself. In this space of time, Kovalti gathered his self-assurance before letting himself speak.

"Theilion, Vundi wanted you to know something. He was going to tell you today, there's a chest he kept in his hut since the day you were born. He wanted you tell you about your origins, or whatever it was he knew of it. But, whatever you discover, just remember him as what he always to you." Kovalti gently said before taking his hand back. Theilion looked up at him in startle, wordless but newly driven. "I'll get back to the hunters." Kovalti said before his departure, leaving Theilion to his lone condition. Theilion's harmed heart only made his mind proceed with multiple questions, but also a new drive to discover something about himself.

Taking a few moments to wipe the last of his tears away, Theilion gathered himself up to make his way to Vundi's house. The night air felt cold as it stroked against Theilions flesh; the village remaining quiet and unnaturally inactive. The short journey from Theilions hut to Vundis' was brief and unnoticed to anyone who may have cared to look. The atmosphere inside Vundi's small house was invitingly warm and cosy, robbing the chills of the air from Theilions' body. Pushing the door gently open, Theilion followed a small glowing light peering around the corners of a wooden door at the end of a wooden hallway, as if someone had allowed themself into the house and the clan leader's room. Theilion walked carefully, shutting out all possible creations of footsteps so that whoever may be in the house would not know of his presence. As he approached the door ahead of him an eerie sound of wind blew through the door. As if huge breathes were being exhaled through the wood, ready to blow it wide open in front of Theilion's face. He stood outside of the door and listened cautiously for any hints of an intruder inside his father's room. There was nothing to hear but that hallowing wind, but Theilion wished to investigate the room whether there would be someone in or not.

He pushed the door open swiftly and held it before it could make an impact with the wall. Cold air strung onto Theilion's face stunning with a sudden shiver over his body. The room was without company, not a single person inside. The wind had been flying in the room due to a window that had been left unattended. Theilion marched over and closed it to shut out the air, locking into place and checking for any signs of entry. As he scanned the room he spotted a small brown truck hiding away in the corner of the wall between a fire place and large cabinet. Apart from the paintings and rug there was little in the room except for a small desk and a chair. Theilion knelt down and gripped the trunk lightly as he pulled it out and into the centre of the room. Using the small candles on the desk and lighting up the fireplace in only a few minutes of time, he had created a glow of light for himself as he sat himself on the desk chair and prepared himself to open the trunk. He lifted up the tiny hatches but took a short moment to breathe and brace for whatever would be inside. Then he cautiously lifted up the top and a small speck of dust breezed up to greet him. Theilion coughed and waved his hand to clear out the dust. Inside were only a few small items, two white enveloped letters, a small brown wallet bag and baby clothes of a rare and exceptional material design. He reached in and pulled out the two letters and the wallet bag, intrigued in just what was inside the wallet he placed the letters on the desk and used both hands to open the leather bag. He then pulled off the tiny rope that kept it tied together and poured onto his hands the contents. The bag dropped seven pure gold coins of great value, and two crystal clear diamonds. Theilion's eyes shot wide open with amazement, but it did not kill the pain inside him. He exclaimed with disbelief of how much he was given, but what wasn't clear to him was the purpose for such wealth. Theilion turned his attention to the desk letters and swapped them with the money. On the first letter it was addressed to a Sir or Madam, on the other was addressed to my son, Theilion fearing it to be him. Interested but reluctantly paced he opened the envelope and pulled out from inside a letter. It was an egg white coloured piece of expensive paper and the writing was of a font he did not recognise. Theilion pulled the candle closer to him and the text on the page was made easier to read.

_My son, I Cannot seem to find the words to tell you this but I have little time to do such so I must be clear and true. I Hope it is you reading this and that he or she who is taking care of you is treating you well and righteously. I am deeply saddened to tell you these things but you must understand that whoever you may have chosen to become, you are meant for something great. You are destined to make a change in this world, to fulfil a great task that I believe set your place in the halls of history. You were born for a very important purpose and every day I will pray to the gods to protect and guide you on whatever path you are venturing on. I must not reveal to you who I am except your loving mother, and nor can I tell you of your father or your family or even your own name. _

_I am truly sorry for the wronging I have bestowed on you but I would not have let you be condemned for anything not of your doing. I want you to know that I love you very much, and it is my hope that I will see you one day and we can be a family again. Until that day comes I wish you well on your path and if you should find yourself feeling alone or wounded in this world then please search in your heart and know that I will always watch the dawn for you, to help carry on down your road. Do not submit, and do not stray from the path of the righteous. _

_With love and many hopes, your loving mother_

Theilion fell confused by what he had read, unsure of what to think or feel from this. But there was still another letter on the desk; however Theilion was afraid to read it. He did not know what he would discover from it so instead of reading it he picked it up and threw it onto the burning fire. Theilion watched it burn in the hopes it would not change his past, but it already had after reading the first letter. The death of his false father was a deeply wound by itself but the revealing of his true past seemed to be like salty oils pouring into it, stinging him with excruciating torment. Theilion had hoped that finding out about his past would make him feel better, hoping to save some of the life that he lost with Vundi. But it made him feels worse, the guilt inside festered like a vermin. Theilion felt little assurance as for his identity, no feel of belonging to anywhere or anything. Purged from a dream to wake up to a bitter reality, no money or wealth easing any of the pain freshly inflicted. A hole in his chest, as gaping as a wound from a blade, but regardless to the bleeding it caused something inside him urged him to read it once more, hoping to satisfy what it can from this. And so, daring himself to read it again this time slowing down the process, salvaging the goodness found from his mother, Theilion making an imaginary image of a woman writing this very letter. The hunter felt himself emerge through the end, differently this time. The thought of a woman choosing to save him as a baby gave me small amounts of comfort, but it opened up to a new questions. It was a dreading image to take that it would be far too difficult to find his mother, but hidden behind the truth he saw the nobility of his pretending father. Theilion, of all things found a little measure of self-secureness, not enough to mend his heart but something to fall onto for how long it may endure.


End file.
